Last Wish
by NJ Coffee Queen
Summary: Draco and Hermione are made the sole guardians of Pansy Parkinson's daughter. Can two enemies unite over one common bond?
1. Prologue

So I had the idea for this story last night while I was trying to fall asleep. Let me know what you all think of the things I do not own.

**

* * *

Prologue**  
The last will and testament of Pansy Parkinson was to be read in Conference Room B on the fifth floor of the Ministry of Magic. Hermione Granger raced through the Atrium to the lifts to be there on time. Though she had no idea why her presence was required, it seemed wrong to defy the wishes of the recently deceased. The gates were just closing when she squeezed into the already full lift, and in seconds she was closer to her destination.

Voices could be heard in Conference Room B as Hermione neared; her heart pounding from a combination of trepidation and running. The first set of eyes to land upon her when she entered were none other than the silvery-gray squinted eyes of Draco Malfoy. The reading was called to order shortly thereafter, and the only available seat was beside her childhood enemy.

"What are you doing here?" he whispered, keeping his eyes on Pansy's lawyer.

Hermione shrugged. "I received notice yesterday requesting my presence. I didn't even know Pansy had passed away. What happened?"

"No clue."

The conversation ended when the lawyer read off their names together. "To Mr. Draco Malfoy and Miss Hermione Granger, I ask that my only daughter, Gemma Parkinson, be placed in your care. A monthly stipend has been set aside for her..."

Hermione flushed. She felt faint. The lawyer's assistant handed her an envelope, but Hermione couldn't see straight enough to read it at the moment. The letter was gripped in one hand as her other braced itself against the armrest of her chair.

"What's it say?" Draco asked, sounding only half interested. Her hand shook as she handed it to him. One white-blonde eyebrow rose, but he accepted it nonetheless. She heard the rustle of the paper as spots seemed to dance before her eyes.

"What's it say?" she asked, her voice wavering. He was silent for a moment as he finished reading the letter. Then he handed it back to her. When she didn't take it, he dropped it into her lap. One shaking hand reached down and lifted the letter.

_Dear __Gra_ _Hermione,_

_I'm sure you're wondering why I would ask that you and Draco take on the role of guardians for my daughter. I spent much of my adolescent life loving Draco more than anything. I also spent much of that time hating you. In the five years since we've left Hogwarts, I've grown up. _

_Leaving Gemma to Draco seemed like an obvious choice when I set about to make my will. He was the one I had envisioned being her father long before she was even here. There's a sense of longing within him to not be his father, and I hope Gemma will help him to see that he isn't Lucius._  
_  
You, on the other hand, were a hard choice. We were never friends, spoke only to insult, and reveled in one another's shortcomings. But you were always patient and kind and brilliant. I hope that in working together to raise my little girl you and Draco will be able to support one another and help to keep the past in the past, where it belongs._

_I truly appreciate you taking on such a heavy responsibility, but I know you will do well._  
_  
-Pansy_

Hermione read the letter twice more before folding it in three's and tucking it back inside the envelope.

"Pansy was insane," Draco declared. "Had to be to think we'd raise her kid together. This will never work." He stood and walked out of the meeting. Hermione blinked rapidly before making her exit.

"Wait, Malfoy, wait," she called out when she found him near the lifts. He had one foot in and his hand held the gate back. "We have to talk about this. Did you even know she had a child?"

Draco took his hand off the gate and beckoned her to join him. The ride down was quiet; too quiet for Hermione's liking. He strode through the Atrium, always a few paces ahead of her. It wasn't until they reached a small muggle pub on the corner that he spoke. "I did know about Gemma. She's only six months old. As for her father, I don't know who he is, just that he ran off when Pansy told him she was pregnant."

"That's awful," Hermione whispered.

"Pansy was never a nice person, but even she didn't deserve that," Draco replied. The bartender placed two glasses of whiskey in front of them and they drank quietly. "My mum said she heard it was some kind of cancer. It sure as hell worked pretty quickly." He downed the rest of his glass and turned it over on the bar.

Hermione watched the amber colored liquid swirl around in her glass before setting it down. "I guess we should work out some kind of arrangement. Like we trade off each week who has her."

"That will never work," Draco muttered. "She's six months old. We can't pass her back and forth like a quaffle."

"So what are you suggesting?" Hermione asked incredulously. "That you and I live together?"

He nodded and took her forgotten drinking, downing it in a gulp. "I think it's the only way. Besides, I have house elves to help me out. What do you have?" The usual Malfoy sneer contorted his face as he waved to the bartender for a refill.

A guffaw was her only response before she tried a different approach. "I, umm...we can't." Taking a deep breath, she started over. "Malfoy, I can't live at your manor."

Setting down his drink, Draco turned to look at the witch beside him. It had been five years since he'd seen her last. She had filled out a bit, and the hair that he once teased her for was seemingly under control. Then he thought about the last time he had seen her - in battle. And the time before that, she was being tortured by his deranged Aunt Bellatrix. It dawned on him in that moment what she was saying.

"We'll find someplace else," he assured her, swallowing the last bit of whiskey. "Sometimes it's just as hard for me to be there."

In response she merely nodded. Her finger traced through the condensation on the bar top as they slipped into silence. The weight of the day's events hung heavily over her head. How could Pansy Parkinson ever begin to think that having Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger raise her child would be a good idea?


	2. Chapter 1

One reviewer pointed out that I accidentally entitled the Prologue as Epilogue. Thanks for catching my mistake! Hope you enjoy the chapter.

**

* * *

Chapter 1**  
The rocking chair squeaked as Draco fed Gemma her midnight bottle. Her bright brown eyes shut as she suckled; one small hand tangled in her dark brown curls. When she spit out her bottle, Draco shifted her to his shoulder and patted her back lightly. The house was quiet except for the occasional gurgle from the eight-month old baby in his arms. He looked up with the nursery door squeaked quietly. 

"Hey, I was just coming in to check on her," Hermione murmured softly. "Everything alright?"

"We're fine, Granger. Go back to bed." He stood and paced the room while rubbing Gemma's back until she fell completely asleep.

Hermione moved closer. "You need to hold her a little higher," she advised. "Otherwise, when she spits up it'll be all over your shirt instead of just your shoulder."

"I said we're fine," he stated through clenched teeth. A scowl set on her face, Hermione turned around and exited the room. Draco watched her go and looked down at Gemma. "Your mummy must have really hated me." Gemma gurgled once more and let out a sigh as she slept close to his chest. Gently, he placed her in her crib and left.

The next morning when he awoke, he immediately went to the nursery to check on Gemma. Panic set in when she wasn't in her bed. "Granger!" he called as he ran down the stairs. "Granger, I can't find Gemma!" He was out of breath by the time he reached the sitting room. He breathed in deeply several times at the sight before him. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," she said quietly. Rising slowly from the couch, Hermione offered him a small smile. They closed the distance between them, and she handed Gemma to him. "I'll make breakfast."

Draco screwed up his face in disgust. "Please don't. I'm really not a fan of your charred toast."

She transferred the spit rag to his shoulder and laughed. "I was thinking cereal today. The cold kind so you don't have to worry about burnt porridge or anything. And I have a meeting at work that I really need to attend, so something quick would be best."

He watched as she walked away from him and entered the kitchen, the door swinging back and forth behind her. It wasn't until she called out that breakfast was ready, that he moved. Two bowls of cereal were set on the table with a pitcher of milk in between. Hermione had just set down a pot of tea before taking her seat.

"Well, tuck in," she said in her best impression of Molly Weasley. "You don't want your cereal getting...soggy."

One chuckle later, Draco placed Gemma in her high chair and set down a handful of dry cereal for her to munch on. "I think she got another tooth yesterday," he informed Hermione, around a mouthful of breakfast.

"That's three now, isn't it?"

"Four."

Hermione let out a small "hmm" and finished off her breakfast. "I should get to work. I'll be home around five," she informed him. When he didn't acknowledge her, or even look away from his cereal bowl, she scowled and left for the floo.

Minutes later, she stepped out of the grate and into the Ministry Atrium. After a two month sabbatical following the arrival of Gemma, Hermione was glad to be back at work. In the weeks since her return, questions about her unusual arrangement with Draco Malfoy had finally begun to die down. Loaded down with messages and files in her arms, she entered her office and shut the door.

"Morning."

Glancing up in shock, she caught sight of Harry Potter seated at her desk. "Harry, you scared me. How many times must I ask you not to be in my office when I'm not here?" she inquired indignantly.

He flashed her an apologetic smile and vacated her chair. When they were settled into their respective seats, Harry again smiled at her. "How've things been at home?"

Hermione snorted at the thought of "home." Just before Gemma had been placed in their custody, Draco had bought a two story, three bedroom house without consulting her. It was a nice enough place to live, but life with Draco Malfoy would never be easy for her. "It's fine," she decided unfeelingly. Harry raised an eyebrow, telling her that he didn't believe a word she said. "Every time I try to hold Gemma, or check on her, or, heaven forbid, ask about her, Draco goes into this weird panic. Take this morning, for instance. He woke up and came running down the stairs saying he couldn't find her. Like someone had broken in and kidnapped her. He's gone mental."

"I kind of expected you to be that overprotective, don't let Malfoy touch the baby kind of parent," Harry replied with a chuckle. "It's weird to think that Malfoy can pull himself away from the mirror long enough to watch her."

"Oh come on, Harry. He's really quite good with her." The tone she spoke with was defensive, coming as a shock to both parties. Taking a deep breath, she tried a different approach. "Draco and Pansy were friends for a long time. They grew up together, and even you have to admit you thought they'd end up together. After the war, or maybe even before the war, they had some kind of falling out. I think he just feels bad that he wasn't around when Pansy went through everything she went through."

Harry leaned back in his chair and whistled. There were a few more cracks he wanted to take at Malfoy's expense, but held his tongue at the sight of the enraged look on Hermione's face. "So he's taking this parenting thing pretty seriously then." The brunette nodded as she toyed with the hem of her robe sleeve. "So then what's bothering you?"

She released an impatient sigh, wishing they could put an end to this particular topic of conversation. Finally, she answered. "He's better at it than I am." Harry let out a loud laugh as she narrowed her eyes at him. "Oh for goodness sake, it isn't funny, Harry. He hardly even lets me near Gemma. Probably afraid that my mudblood germs are going to rub off on her."

"I'm guessing there's no need to ask how things are between the two of you then," Harry joked, running a hand through his dark locks. Receiving a glower that could maim, he held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, sorry. No more bad jokes. Have you considered talking to him about this? About how you feel? I know he's not the most considerate of blokes, but maybe he'll understand."

"Not bloody likely," Hermione grumbled. "I have to get to a meeting. You know the way to the door."

It was closer to 9:00 when Hermione finally, tiredly stepped out of the floo. A single candle burned on the coffee table, giving the room an eerie glow. There was no noise, no footsteps causing the hardwood floors to creak, no running water to signal to her that Draco was still awake. Setting her purse and work bag down on the couch (a habit she knew would irritate Malfoy), she made her way up the stairs to the nursery. The soft melodies of the spinning mobile above the crib played as Gemma slept. Hermione stood over the crib and watched the little girl breathe in and out. "Sleep tight, little one," she murmured, tracing a finger over her soft cheek before leaving the room.

The nursery was in between two bedrooms; the one on the left was Hermione's and the one on the right Draco's. Briefly, she considered going in to check on him too. Part of her thought it would be a good time to get things out in the open between them as far as Gemma was concerned. But she had a sickening feeling that he would be mad at her. Four hours late and no notice to him would surely try his patience with her.

She was standing in front of his closed door, poised to knock, when he opened it. The sudden action caused them both to jump back in surprise. "What do you want?" he asked, pressing the heel of his hand into his tired right eye.

"To talk," she said quietly. "Sorry if I woke you."

He shook his head. "You didn't. I thought I heard Gem."

"I was just in there. She's fine." Her words were terse and rushed. "Can we please talk?"

With a sigh, he stepped around her and made his way down the stairs to the living room. The lights were turned up when she joined him. His long legs were propped up on the coffee table (a habit he knew would irritate Hermione) and his eyes were closed. Uneasily, she settled herself on the opposite end of the couch.

"So, talk," he broke the silence with his irritability.

"Sometimes," she started, fidgeting with her joined hands, "I feel like you don't want me to have any part in raising Gemma."

"I don't," he cut her off, finally opening his eyes to glare at her. "Look, Pansy was never your friend. And as often as she annoyed me, we were still..." He stopped speaking as his voice began to show signs of an emotion he didn't want Hermione to see.

Inching closer, she rested her hand on his forearm. "I understand that," she replied quietly. "Even after reading her letter I can't completely comprehend why she would choose me. But, Draco, she did, which means you have to let me in. Let me shoulder some of the load."

Pulling his arm away from her touch, he used his hand to push away strands of blonde hair that fell into his eyes. "How do you expect to 'help shoulder the load' if you're always at work?" he asked condescendingly. He rose from the couch. "This conversation is over, Granger. I'm going back to bed."


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**  
It was the same routine day in and day out. Hermione went to work and Draco stayed home with Gemma. It wasn't that he minded; he never wanted her around anyhow. But there was something lonesome about sitting at home all day long with no one for company but a soon to be twelve month old. Lately, the little girl had been getting into everything as she started to walk. She had yet to take her first official steps, but Draco swore they would happen any day now.

When a bright green flame erupted in the hearth, Gemma squealed with excitement as if she knew who was about to step out. Hermione dusted the excess soot from her robes before removing them. Gemma lifted her arms in the air as a sign that she wanted to be held. Hermione shot Draco a tentative look, curious to see if he was angry that someone wasn't asking for his attention.

"Dinner's on the stove for you. I placed a warming charm on it so it should be fine," he told her. "I'll be in my room."

Gemma whimpered as Draco made his way up the stairs. "Dada," she cried.

Hermione's mouth fell open. "Malfoy, come back."

He turned on the stairs and came back to the living room. "Did I just hear...did she just say?"

"Yeah, I think she did." Hermione smiled sadly as Draco took her from Hermione's arms. He spun Gemma around causing her to laugh uproariously.

"Say it again," he prompted her. "What's my name?"

As she made her way into the kitchen, Hermione could hear Gemma saying "dada" over and over again. A plate of pasta sat on the stove, but she was no longer hungry. Resting her elbows on top of the counter, she let her hands cradle her head. It was jealousy she knew she was feeling. Of course Gemma would say his name first. He was always around while she was never home.

The kitchen door swung open and in walked Draco with the curly haired toddler in his arms. "It's bedtime," he informed her with a ridiculously un-Draco-like smile on his face. "Want to do it?"

Hermione shook her head, which caused the smile on Draco's face to disappear momentarily. "Okay, I'll be back down in a few minutes."

When he returned with a look of worry, Hermione still hadn't moved from her position at the counter. He moved nearer to her, but she inched away.

"What's going on?" he asked.

Lifting her head, Draco could see the faint lines of tears on her cheeks.

"With what, Malfoy?" she inquired. "With work? Work is fantastic. The Weasleys are good too. My parents are taking a trip to Sydney next week. Ever since the war they've been big fans."

"I meant with you," he replied softly. "You seemed a little down when I came in before."

"You don't care," she spat out, turning away to leave for her room.

He caught her shirt sleeve before she reached the door and spun her around to face him. "If I didn't care I wouldn't have asked," he stated angrily. "Is it because of what she said? Did calling me dada upset you?"

"A bit," she replied timidly.

Draco sighed and led her over to the table. "It's not uncommon for a child's first word to be some derivative of dad. It doesn't mean she likes me better or loves you any less. You're the only mother she'll ever know, Granger. Give her time. She'll be calling you Mummy more often than you ever want to hear it."

Hermione laughed softly, but felt the sting of tears renew. "I've been thinking about cutting back my hours at work. Maybe only work part-time, at least until she starts school," she told him, fearful that he would tell her she wasn't needed at home.

"Sounds like a good idea," he agreed. His lips twitched when a look of surprise touched her face. "You work too hard and too long. Be a 23 year old, Granger. Besides, it's not like you really _need _to work."

"Oh, really? Are you gonna take care of me, Malfoy?" she joked. He merely shrugged one shoulder in response and smirked. Shaking her head, Hermione rose from her seat. "I'm going to bed."

"Sleep well, Granger," he replied, moving over to the stove to put away her leftover dinner.

"Hey Malfoy, I'll handle the feedings tonight," she offered. "You probably need to sleep more than I do."

Morning came too quickly for Hermione's liking. Between bottles and diaper changes, she had gotten a grand total of three-and-a-half hours of sleep. Her legs felt heavy as she slowly walked down the stairs. There was noise coming from the kitchen, and she briefly considered hexing Draco until it stopped.

"Coffee," she mumbled, pushing open the kitchen door. Her vision was hazy, which afforded her the inability to see a smiling, well rested Draco move around the kitchen with Gemma on his hip.

He set a mug of hot coffee before her and took a seat opposite her. "Go on, Granger. Tell me, how long did you spend coaching her to say Mummy? Don't be shy, you can tell me."

"Sod off, Malfoy," she groaned, taking a long sip of her coffee.

Aghast, Draco covered Gemma's ears. "Language, Granger," he reprimanded. "Wouldn't want her second word to be foul."

Instead of replying, she frowned and sipped her coffee again. They sat in silence, watching as Draco bounced Gemma up and down on his lap. She squealed and laughed with each movement. Hermione wondered if this was what it would be like if the three of them were really a family. A sense of longing washed briefly over her at the thought.

"You're frowning again, Granger." Draco's words pulled her out of her reverie. When she didn't respond, he continued, "I'm meeting Blaise at the Three Broomsticks today. Will you be okay with her by yourself?"

"It's not the first time, Malfoy," she muttered, pushing back her chair. She walked over to the coffee pot and poured herself a second cup. Just when she thought they were making some kind of progress towards civility, he took two steps back. He stood and walked over to Hermione, transferring Gemma from his arms to hers.

"It'll probably only be a couple of hours, and you know where I'll be in case you need to get in touch," he said before kissing the top of Gemma's head. "Bye, sweetie."

"See you later, darling," Hermione replied cheekily.

Draco smiled and shook his head before heading for the floo. He stepped into the Three Broomsticks and ordered a butterbeer before taking a seat at the first free table he saw. He was halfway through when Blaise Zabini strolled up and took the unoccupied seat. The Italian was dressed in the finest Italian-made robes, and walked with more than an air of confidence.

"Malfoy," he greeted with a tip of his head. "Good to see you."

"Yeah, you too. Haven't heard from you in a while."

Blaise shrugged. "We've been friends for a long time, Draco. When I heard about Pansy it seemed wrong to not talk to you."

Silence filled the air between them as they slowly sipped their drinks; butterbeer for Draco and firewhiskey for Blaise.

"She had a daughter, ya know," Draco remarked. "And as was Pansy's sick sense of humor, she left her to Hermione Granger and me." Blaise nodded in understanding and finished off his liquor.

"I have a few errands to run. I'm not in town for long," Blaise explained. "We'll have to do this again sometime soon."

Draco stood and shook his hand. "Come around some time. She looks exactly like her mother."

Blaise nodded. "What's her name?"

"Gemma," he told her. He watched as his friend departed before he finished off his drink and headed for the floo network. When he arrived at home he was greeted by the sounds of applause and laughter.

Hermione looked up and smiled at Draco. "Well, that was quick. Come watch this," she told him giddily. Gemma rose up onto unsteady legs and took two small steps before falling onto her bottom. She looked up at Draco and laughed. He lifted her up and held her tightly to his chest. "You missed the first one, but those were steps two and three."

"That was amazing," he murmured in awe. "Merlin, Pans would have been so proud."


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Hermione sat on her bed with a basket of laundry in front of her when she heard a soft knock on her door. "Come in," she said as she placed another onesie in the basket. The door opened and Draco stuck his head in. "Oh good, I wanted to talk to you. Mrs. Weasley usually has a big Sunday lunch, and I haven't been to one in awhile. She said that if I could make it tomorrow, we could do a little birthday party for Gemma."

He nodded and shut the door, leaning back against it. "That's fine. I haven't been to visit my mum in just as long. I'll spend the afternoon with her," he replied.

"Draco, why don't you...you should be there," she insisted. "It's her first birthday, and she's so attached to you. Come with us."

"I'm pretty sure I'm the last person the Weasleys want to see." His hand sought out the doorknob, ready to make an excuse about checking on the baby, when she asked him to stop.

"Could you, just this once, pretend to humor me? Say you'll think about?" she asked hopefully. He nodded once and left the room. She sighed, and fell back against her pillows. The tension that used to be there between Draco and her had finally begun to dissipate over the past months. Gone was the Draco she had grown up with, and in his place was a kinder, gentler, more patient man. Pansy had been right when she wrote that he wasn't Lucius. There were no nannies, no house elves, no servants waiting on them hand and foot and taking care of Gemma all day. He stayed home with her, changed diapers, took care of nightly feedings. She couldn't be sure, but when Gemma had taken her first steps or called him "dada" she thought she could see a twinkle in his usually emotionless gray eyes.

There had been something on his mind. He rarely ever sought her out in her bedroom. Something must have been bothering him. Setting aside the rest of the unfolded laundry for later, she left her room and knocked on his door. After a muffled shuffling of feet and the sound of the knob turning, the door opened. She smiled expectantly at him, and Draco stepped aside to allow her in.

"It seemed like there was something on your mind before," she said, taking a seat on the edge of his bed.

"It was nothing," he mumbled, smoothing back his hair. His face hardly betrayed the lies he so often told. _It's nothing. Everything's fine._

Her eyebrows drew together in concern. "I don't believe you," she decided, though she knew he wouldn't care what she thought. "You came to my room to talk, and I just cut you off with that silly idea about going to the Burrow."

"It's nothing," he said again, leaning back against his dresser.

She rose from the bed and moved to stand in front of him. "Talk to me," was her only request as she placed a hand on his bicep.

Reaching over, he removed the hand from his arm and give her wrist a less than comfortable squeeze. "I said it's nothing. Good night, Granger."

Her eyes began to sting; a sure indication that tears would follow shortly. "Fine, Malfoy," she replied, keeping her voice even. "See you in the morning."

The midday wind whipped up as Hermione quickly walked to the front door of the Burrow. Her arms were full as she carried Gemma, trying to protect her from the wind, and the very full bag of supplies to keep the little girl fed, dry, and entertained. Not for the first time since she had left the house, she wished Draco had come with her.

Once inside, she was greeted by noise and several members of the family. Molly Weasley, the short, stout, red-haired matriarch, pushed her way through the hoard surrounding Hermione. She gasped and covered her mouth with one hand. "Oh, she's so beautiful," Molly exclaimed. She held out her hands to Gemma, who leaned away from Hermione, and Molly relieved the young witch of the little girl. "It's just so good of you and Draco to take her in. She's just precious."

As Molly carried Gemma away, Hermione began to protest. "It's no use," Ginny told her, resting a hand on her rounded stomach. The sunlight caught on her diamond ring, causing Hermione to squint. "You probably won't see her again until it's time to leave. And even then you'll have to pry her out of Mum's arms."

"Don't worry, Mione," Harry said to her. "Once James is here, Molly's attentions will be elsewhere."

"Thanks. That's...reassuring," Hermione replied, though she was hardly convinced of that notion. She placed the diaper bag down beside the couch and took a seat. Her eyes surveyed the room for any sign of Gemma. Then she heard the familiar peel of laughter coming from the kitchen. A smile appeared on her face as Gemma was brought back into the family room, courtesy of George's wife, Angelina.

"I think someone missed her mummy," Angelina said with a smile as she handed Gemma over.

"Mama," Gemma said happily once she was comfortably situated on Hermione's lap. Hermione gasped as her mouth hung open, before closing into a wide smile.

"First time she's said it?" Angelina asked, taking a seat beside her. Once she was seated, her three year old daughter Roxanne climbed onto her lap. Hermione nodded in response and kissed the top of Gemma's head. "It's an amazing feeling when they finally acknowledge you. I still don't think I'm used to hearing Roxy and Freddie call me mum yet."

"It is amazing," she agreed, as the smile began to fade. "I just sort of wish Draco had-"

"Hey, where is the ferret anyhow?" Ron interrupted. George slapped the back of his head.

Before she could reply, Mrs. Weasley appeared from the kitchen to announce that lunch was on the table. The children ran ahead of the adults to occupy the small table Mr. Weasley had crafted just for them. Hermione was the last one to the table. She sat with Gemma on her lap, alternating between feeding her and eating from her own plate.

A small cake was brought out and set in front of Gemma once the table was cleared. The large family sang a rousing chorus of "Happy Birthday" and clapped when Hermione helped her blow out the single candle in the center. Molly then took the cake and began serving it around. Hermione cut off a small piece and held it up for Gemma. But the little girl had other ideas. Her small hands immediately reached for the chocolatey concoction as she shoved it into her mouth. Hermione laughed as Gemma held up a sticky, chocolate covered hand to give her a taste.

"Thanks, love," Hermione said with a smile. "I should get her home, Molly. She'll need a bath and it's almost her nap time. Thanks for lunch."

"You come back soon, dear," Molly replied, pulling her into a hug. Her plump hand caressed Gemma's chocolate frosted cheek. "And you have a wonderful birthday."

They arrived home shortly after leaving. Draco was stretched out on the couch with a book held up to his face. The sounds of the newly arrived had him closing it and sitting up. "What the bloody hell is all over her?" he demanded, rising from the sofa.

"Now, now, Draco, language. We wouldn't want her third word to be foul," she reprimanded him with a smile.

He took Gemma from her arms and proceeded to the upstairs bathroom to bathe her. "Third word? Did she finally say it?" he asked. He laid the little girl down on the changing table and began to remove her cake stained clothes. Hermione moved over to the bathtub and began to regulate the water.

"She did," she replied, the smile growing as she relayed the moment in perfect detail for him. "I wish you had been there to hear it," she added, stepping away from the tub to give him better access to the warm water. He nodded and they remained silent as the bath went on. She held open a towel, waiting to receive Gemma for drying. He left the bathroom, removing his wet shirt as he went, and closed his bedroom door behind him.

With a deep frown set on her face, she gently placed Gemma down in her crib and then went to Draco's room. She hadn't bothered to knock; just pushed open the door to confront him. "I thought you were visiting your mother today. That's the reason you gave me for not coming to the Burrow with us."

"I told you I wouldn't be going. I will never be welcomed there," he replied with just as much ire in his as had been in hers. He took a seat on the side of his bed and sighed. "I wasn't going to ruin her birthday by upsetting the Weasleys," he added softly.

Taking tentative steps, she reached the bed and sat beside him. When he didn't yell at her to get off his bed, she placed a hand on his back and moved it around in comforting circles. "I couldn't stop thinking about Pansy today," she told him quietly. "When she finally called me 'mama'...I don't know. I thought I would have been happier, but I just couldn't stop thinking that I'm not her mother. Not really."

He turned his head slightly. "I feel that way too sometimes," he admitted. "I had a meeting with the family attorney to add Gem to some of the Malfoy family accounts and put her in my will. And each time I had to write her name, Gemma Parkinson, it just reminded me all over again that she's not really a Malfoy."

"We could have her name changed," she suggested in hopes of alleviating some of the pain they both felt.

Draco scoffed and shook his head. "And what do we change it to - Gemma Parkinson Granger Malfoy? We can't do that to a child. Three last names would be ridiculous."

"And we're not eliminating Parkinson," she agreed adamantly. She sighed and lay back on the soft mattress. "So, what do we do? How do we get this feeling to go away?"

"I don't know," he murmured, lying down beside her. "Maybe it just takes time. Longer than six months, I mean." And they both hoped he was right.

****


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**  
Malfoy Manor seemed much larger than the last time she had been there. It was tall and dark and intimidating to look at, and Hermione was seriously considering turning back around and going home. She and Draco walked side by side up the long, winding front path with Gemma in her arms and their belongings for an overnight stay in his. It was her first Christmas with them, and Hermione had to wonder if spending it with the Malfoy family was the best idea.

"You okay?" he asked, noticing that her pace had slowed the closed they got. "Is she getting too heavy for you?"

"Gem's not the problem," Hermione muttered, shifting her higher up on her hip. Draco looked from her to the house and then back; the frown he wore acknowledged her feelings of dread. They reached the front door and Draco pushed it open.

The foyer was decorated tastefully, with garlands and fairy lights and a huge Christmas tree in the center. The air was warmed by the smell of freshly baked cookies ("It's a charm," Draco pointed out.) Narcissa Malfoy greeted them cordially; hugging her son and smoothing back the fine, dark curls on Gemma's head. She ignored Hermione completely.

"Mother, you know Hermione Granger," Draco informed her pointedly. Politely, Narcissa nodded her head to girl who had always been the enemy. "We'll be upstairs." He brushed by his mother and led them to his old bedroom.

A crib had been set up in the corner, but when Hermione attempted to lower Gemma into it, the little girl refused to budge. Draco was busy unpacking while she attempted unsuccessfully to put Gemma down.

"Let her play on the bed," Draco suggested as he hung up her dress for the evening's party.

With a flick of her wand, the pillows moved around until they created a sort of barricade around the perimeter of the bed. Satisfied that Gemma wouldn't tumble to the floor, Hermione turned to Draco. "So, if I'm sleeping in a different room, why are you hanging up my dress in your closet?"

He stopped before the hanger reached the pole in his closet. "Mum put us both in here," he told her, holding onto the hanger. "Besides, Gemmy's in here. I figured you would want to be close to her too."

"No, I do...want to be close by," she replied, having a hard time getting the words out. "It's just...I'm not sleeping with you, Malfoy."

He finally placed her dress in the closet and shut the door before making his way around the bed. "There's a couch, Granger," he said slowly, dropping onto the soft cushions. "One of us will take the couch, and one of us will take the bed."

Hours later, with the five course meal, glasses of eggnog, and dancing had ended, Draco and Hermione made their way back to his room. Silencing charms had been placed to block out the noise so Gemma could sleep. A small house elf, named Dippy, sat beneath the crib when they entered.

"Mr. Draco," Dippy exclaimed with relief.

"Did she give you any trouble?" he asked, moving over to the sleeping girl.

Dippy's eyes widened and he suddenly looked nervous as he stood. "No, sir, none at all." The pillowcase the elf wore was stained with strained peas and banana, and his ears were bright red. "Miss Gemma is a spirited baby."

"Sorry Dippy," Draco murmured as Hermione walked into the bathroom to ready. "We won't be needing anything else tonight. See you in the morning."

The elf squeaked but backed towards the door quickly before disappearing on the other side. Minutes later, Hermione emerged from the bathroom with a smile on her face.

"Put it away, Granger," he cautioned as he walked into the bathroom. Her smile grew as she climbed into bed. Draco's childhood bed. She pushed the comforter back and grabbed a pillow, preparing herself for a night on the sofa.

The bathroom door opened just as she finished making up the couch. "Take the bed, Granger," he said as he checked on Gemma.

"No, Malfoy, I can't. That's your bed," she argued.

"Right, and it's up to me who sleeps in it," he countered, moving around the bed to the sofa. He removed the blanket from her hand and sat down on a couch that would be far too small for him to sleep on. "Look, I didn't get you a Christmas present, so consider this your gift."

Hermione rolled her eyes at what he thought was a considerate gesture. "Fine, but you're gonna wish you hadn't played the chivalry card."

It was past three o'clock in the morning when Draco finally gave up on getting comfortable on the couch. Every time he moved, the bottom sheet would dislodge. When he laid on his back, his bottom would slip between the cushions. And then there was the matter of his long legs, which hung over the arm of the couch. Throwing aside the blanket, he stood up and stretched out his back. He stood by his old bed debating whether or not to climb in. Granger would surely murder him where he lay, but at least he would be comfortable beforehand.

A small, impatient cry came from the crib as Gemma pulled herself up with the assistance of the bars. Hermione rolled onto her other side, using the pillow to block out the noise, when she rolled into something. The contact startled her awake and she sat up blinking rapidly as Draco rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

"Happy Christmas," he mumbled. "Five more minutes please?"

She pushed on his chest in a vain attempt to get him out of the bed. "What the bloody hell are doing, Malfoy?" Her voice rose with each word that came out.

"Sleeping," he replied, his voice muffled by the pillow. It wasn't until Gemma began to cry that he picked up his head, now fully awake. Hermione beat him to the crib, and lifted the little girl out to comfort her.

"I told you the couch wouldn't be comfortable enough for you. Quit being so bloody stubborn, Malfoy," she chastised.

"Quit being so bloody righteous, Granger," he spat back, slamming the bathroom door shut just to get away from her.

"One step forward, two steps back," she muttered as she prepared Gemma for the day. When she was fed and dressed, Hermione placed her in the crib and dug through her suitcase for Draco's gift. She placed it on his pillow and grabbed her clothes. "I'm going to get changed in the guest bathroom," she called out.

"Fine," came his reply through the door. When he was sure that she was gone, Draco emerged from the bathroom fully dressed and ready for the day. He lifted Gemma out of her crib and set her on the bed to play.

That was when he spotted the trifold paper on his pillow. It was a name change application from the Ministry of Magic, filled out in Hermione's precise, neat handwriting. Draco scanned the document twice, unsure that he read it correctly. In the field that asked for the new name, she had carefully written "Gemma Parkinson Malfoy."


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**  
Draco Malfoy was used to having the upper hand. With Hermione Granger around, he felt that power slipping away. In the months that had passed since Christmas, he stared at the name change form each day before tucking it away in his sock drawer. As much as he wanted to take it to the Ministry for approval, he couldn't bring himself to do it.

After dropping off a sack of groceries in the kitchen, he made his way upstairs to check on Gemma before going to his room. It surprised him that his door was open. His wand was out, poised to defend himself as he slowly walked into his room.

"What the hell are you doing in here?" he asked angrily, lowering his wand. "Don't you realize I could have hurt you?"

Hermione looked up. "You already have," she said, letting a piece of paper fall on top of the dresser. She pushed past him, and he could hear her running down the stairs. He walked over to the dresser and picked up what she had been looking at. The name change form, he realized. Draco sighed and set it back down.

The sound of pots and pans banging in the kitchen alerted him to Hermione's whereabouts. He pushed open the kitchen door and watched as she moved around the kitchen, angrily preparing dinner.

"Can we talk about this?" he asked. Hermione sniffled and shook her head. "Why'd you do it? Why did you want to petition this?"

She slammed a spoon against the counter and spun around. "I said I don't want to talk about it," she replied through clenched teeth.

"I'm sorry I hurt you," he said quietly. He moved closer to her slowly, fearing that she would step away if he got too close. When she didn't, he lifted his hand and brushed away a tear with his thumb. "I know you were trying to do a good thing. I just want to talk about it."

Hermione cleared her throat and turned her head away from his hand. "Could you check on Gemmy please?"

Draco nodded defeatedly and left the kitchen. She let a few more tears fall before wiping them away. Minutes later, Draco returned with Gemma, who rested her head against his shoulder as she twisted her hair around her fingers.

"Dinner will be ready soon," she informed him emotionlessly. "Just shut off the burner in two minutes. I'm not feeling well. I'll be in my room." She squeezed past him, careful not to touch him. He placed Gemma in her high chair and set her dinner down in front of her. He turned off the burner on the stove and stared at the meal she had prepared. His appetite was gone though. Taking a seat he watched the little girl eat, smiling when she handed him a soggy piece of pasta.

"I think I really messed up this time, Gem," he told her sadly. She stared at him for a moment and then held up another piece of pasta. "You still love me at least."

After a bath and a bottle, Draco put Gemma to bed and went to Hermione's door. He was surprised to find the door unlocked and opened it a crack. "Mind if I come in?" Hermione shrugged, and he took it as an indication to enter. "I know you don't want to talk about it, but I want you to know why I didn't send in the application."

Hermione closed her book and gave him her undivided attention. "So talk."

"She's yours too," he told her. "Changing Gemma's last name to Malfoy, it seems wrong. Remember when you told me you felt like I was trying to cut you out? When I saw the form, that's what it felt like I would be doing. Do you want out?"

The tears came again, and Hermione growled as she swatted them away. "Of course I don't want out. I love Gemma, more than I've ever loved anyone. It's just this damn situation, you and me. Why can't we ever seem to get along?"

Draco paled as he listened to her speak. He took a seat beside her on the foot of the bed. "I'm tired of fighting all the time," she continued. "I'm tired of trying to predict your moods. Gods, Malfoy, I'm just tired of so much."

Slowly, cautiously, he wound his arm around her. "I'm tired of calling you Granger all the time, and of you calling me Malfoy," he admitted. "Things would be a lot easier if we could be friends. We've got 17 more years of raising her ahead of us. I don't think either one of us could handle this animosity for that long. Enough horrible things have happened in our lives, and I no longer want to be the one who makes you cry."

Hermione leaned into his side, feeling oddly comfortable with his arm around her. "I'm sorry about the application."

He shrugged, giving her shoulder a soft squeeze. "You were trying to do something nice, and I was...well, I was myself, wasn't I."

"Kind of," she whispered, laughing when her stomach rumbled. "I'm hungry. Could you eat?"

He released his hold on her and stood. "I didn't eat either," he admitted. He held out his hand and pulled her to her feet. "It did look good though. Your cooking abilities certainly have improved greatly in the last eight months."

"Did I just receive a compliment from Draco Malfoy?" she asked incredulously, opening her bedroom door.

They were in the hall, making their way to the stairs. "It's been known to happen," he replied indignantly. They moved around the kitchen together, pulling out plates and reheating food. Once it was prepared, they sat at the table and tucked in.

"Mrs. Weasley offered to take Gemmy Friday night," Hermione said, assessing his reaction. "She thought it would be good for us to have a night off."

Draco frowned, and it was only when he saw the dejected look on Hermione's face, that he straightened out his mouth. "We've never left her for a night," he explained. "What are we supposed to do without her at home?"

Hermione smiled, glad that it wasn't the mention of the Weasley family that put him in a foul mood. "Well, we could get a full night's sleep. Do you even remember what that's like?"

"No," Draco laughed, finishing off his last forkful of potatoes. "Okay, let's do it. We'll let Mrs. Weasley take her for the night. But the first time either one of us starts to miss her, we go over there and pick her up."

Hermione stuck her hand out. "Deal."


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

The house was quiet. The only sounds that came from the sitting room were the soft crackling of the fireplace and the turning of book pages. Draco sighed, and closed his book with a loud thump. "I'm bored," he declared.

"We're not picking her up," Hermione replied, not looking up from the book she was trying to read. "I know we both want to, but we have to have a little self-control."

He slumped back into the cushions and sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. "But I'm bored."

Realizing she wouldn't get too far, she closed her book and slid it onto the coffee table. "Pouting will give you wrinkles, Draco," she teased, laughing when he muttered something about Malfoys never getting wrinkles. "Okay, so you're bored, which means you won't be leaving me alone any time soon. So let's do something."

"Like what?" he mumbled.

Hermione thought for a minute. What did single people in their early 20's who were child-free do with their time? "I could eat," she finally decided. "Let's go to Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade. We'll eat and have a drink and maybe spend five minutes not worrying about Gem."

Pushing himself off the couch, Draco made his way to the stairs to get ready. "Well, are you coming?" he asked impatiently when he returned to see her sitting on the couch still.

It was hours later when they returned home. Hermione was clutching her stomach as she laughed at what Draco had been saying. They had had a rather pleasant evening, and both were surprised that they could converse without mentioning Gemma. Her laughter stopped when she bumped into Draco's back just as he reached the front gate.

"What's wrong?" she asked, panic infiltrating her voice. Draco merely jerked his head to the visitor stationed on the front porch. "Ron? What are you doing here?"

Ron lumbered down the three steps until he stood before them. His hands were jammed into his pockets and his freckled face was pale. Worry widened his bright blue eyes. "It's Gemma. I don't know the details, but Mum's taken her to St. Mungo's," he said quickly, wanting the bad news to be over.

Hermione gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. Draco reached back for her free hand and pulled her close before familiar sensation of Apparition took over her senses. As soon as their feet hit the floor, they ran through the halls until they reached the pediatric ward. Hermione was the first one to spot Mrs. Weasley.

"What happened?" she asked breathlessly, stopping as Mrs. Weasley stood. The older woman pulled her into a tight hug, before letting go and giving Draco the same treatment.

"She had a fever, and it wasn't going down. When you didn't answer my floo call, I sent Ron over to your house to tell you," Mrs. Weasley explained as her face reddened and her already bloodshot eyes produced more tears. "Oh, Hermione, I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," Draco replied, hoping to assuage her guilt. Both women stared with wide eyes at him, as if wondering who he was and what he had done with Draco Malfoy. But he didn't care. "Has a Healer told you anything yet?"

Sadly, Molly shook her head. "Is there anything I can get you?" she asked, ever the comforting mother. Hermione dropped down onto a chair and shook her head.

"No, we're fine," Draco replied. "Thank you, really, Mrs. Weasley."

She pulled him into a tight hug. "I'll leave you two be. Let me know what the healers say, will you dear?"

"Of course," he told her. Mrs. Weasley hugged Hermione once more. When she was gone, Draco took the seat beside Hermione and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "She'll be fine. Mrs. Weasley said it's just a fever. Kids get fevers all the time."

Hermione sniffled and buried her head in Draco's chest. "But what if it isn't just a fever?" she asked, sobs wracking her small frame. "We shouldn't have left her."

"She would have gotten sick with us, too," Draco pointed out, rubbing her arm. "Mrs. Weasley knew exactly what to do with her. Probably was less panicked than we would have been."

Before Hermione could respond, a Healer approached them. "Mr. Malfoy, Ms. Granger, she's going to be alright." Draco and Hermione both sighed in audible relief. "We'd like to keep Gemma overnight for observation, but she should be cleared to go home in the morning."

"What was wrong?" Draco asked as Hermione sniffled once more.

"Your standard flu," the Healer replied, sounding just the slightest bit upset that it wasn't something more challenging. "Molly Weasley said she tried to get the fever down herself, but nothing worked."

"But you were able to?" Hermione asked, knitting together her eyebrows. The Healer nodded, giving her a kind smile. "Can we see her?" Once more, he nodded and led them to a small, private room. Gemma had been placed in a crib that she was trying to climb out of as she cried. Draco reached her first and pulled her out of her little prison.

"Oh, Mr. Malfoy, I really don't think you should-," he began but was cut off by Draco.

"My family has donated enough money to this hospital," he spat out. "I will hold my child when I want." She began to calm down slightly the longer Draco held her. He took a seat on the small loveseat and beckoned Hermione over. She sat beside him and rested her head against his shoulder as her hand stroked Gemma's curls.

"Do you think we could stay with her tonight?" Hermione asked in a small voice as Gemma drifted off to sleep in Draco's arms.

The blonde nodded. "As I said, the Malfoys have donated plenty of galleons. We'll be staying."

There was a pain in her neck and a heavy weight against her waist when Hermione awoke the next morning. She blinked the sleep from her eyes and turned her head to the right, towards a still sleeping Draco. Somehow they had managed to fit side-by-side, albeit tightly, on the small loveseat that faced the crib. She turned her head back to Gemma and watched her sleep.

Beside her, Draco began to stir and his arm tightened around her. He sighed once and coughed. "Morning," he whispered hoarsely, peering down at her. "How's she doing?"

"Sleeping like a baby," Hermione replied, smiling up at him. She wondered if he would ever let her go. And then the thought popped into her mind that she didn't really want him to let go. She felt safe in his arms, less alone than she had felt in months.

Hermione was pulled from her thoughts as Draco's face seemed to near. She could feel his breath on her face, see his lips just inches from her own. His eyes fluttered closed first, hers second.

And then Gemma let out a piercing cry. It startled both, causing Hermione to fall to the floor. "Ow," she winced. Draco stood, bent down and offered her a hand to pull her up. When she was on her feet again, he went over and lifted Gemma out of the crib. He felt her forehead and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Feels normal to me," he declared, kissing Gemma's round and rosy cheek.

The door opened and in walked Padma Patil. "Hello, I'm Healer Patil," she introduced herself as she stared down at the chart that was open in her hands.

"Didn't we go to school together?" Draco asked, studying the former Ravenclaw.

She finally looked up, her face alighting with recognition. "Merlin, who would have ever thought that Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger would be together," she exclaimed, hugging Hermione tightly.

Hermione release a nervous chuckle. "Oh, no, we're not..." she began.

"According to her records, Gemma here is the daughter of Pansy Parkinson," Padma stated, studying the file once more. "Do either of you know who the father is? Unless, it's you, Draco. Is it?"

"Not biologically," he replied, holding Gemma closer. Gemma reached up a hand and covered his mouth before declaring that he was, in fact, her father in the way only a fourteen month old could. "Is something wrong?" he inquired when the other adults stopped laughing.

Padma shook her head. "It's just good to know these things in case something comes up in the future," she explained. "But for now, you can take her home. I'll give you a potion to give her twice a day to make sure the infection stays away." She left the room briefly to get the potion. Hermione and Draco stood in silence. They both wondered the same thing - who was really her father? Padma returned minutes later and handed a vial to Hermione. "It was good to see you again. Hermione, we'll have to catch up sometime soon."

"Let's go home," Draco said when the door closed again. 

It was late and Hermione couldn't sleep. Her mind kept wandering to Gemma. Then it drifted to the almost kiss she and Draco had almost shared. Sighing, she pushed back the blankets and made her way to the nursery.

"Great minds think alike," she heard Draco say when she entered. "I couldn't sleep. I kept worrying that she'd get sick again or something."

"Me too."

He patted the seat next to him, silently asking her to join him. Hermione moved over to the small loveseat and sat down beside him. "Is that the only thing on your mind?" he asked.

"Yes," she lied. They sat in the silent comfort of the nursery, watching Gemma and avoiding eye contact.

Draco sighed and tried to make himself more comfortable. It was too small for him to really go anywhere, especially with someone sitting beside him. He sighed again and caught Hermione's eye.

"It pulls out, you know," she said quietly.

He stood and smiled. "Help me with this?" he asked. Hermione nodded and started pulling off the cushions so they could pull out the bed. He grabbed a set of sheets from the linen closet in the hall and together they made up the bed.

"Looks like you're set. Sleep well," she whispered, taking one last glance at the sleeping girl.

"Where are you going?" he asked, his eyebrows pulling together in confusion.

"Bed?" she replied with a small laugh. She watched as he climbed under the blankets and once more patted the spot beside him.

"You know you won't be able to sleep unless you're near her," he replied. When she hesitated, he added, "I promise I won't do anything inappropriate."

Hermione relented and settled in beside him. Draco rolled onto his side to face her. "We almost kissed today," he murmured, tucking a curl behind her ear.

"Draco," she said as a warning. "We're friends. Let's not let anything mess that up."

"Kissing you would mess that up?" he wondered, letting his hand drift down her cheek.

She closed her eyes and sighed. "It could."

"Sometimes change is a good thing. Looks at us, look at how much we've changed," he urged. "You're the best friend I've got. We've been able to put aside so much for Gemmy's sake. I like being around you. I like sitting down to dinner with you and talking to you. Pansy said she hoped you would be able to help me to put the past where it belongs, and you have. I'm sorry for everything I've done to you over the years, really, truly sorry." His hand fell to the space between them.

Hermione focused solely on his eyes. There was a look of longing in the steely gray orbs, and in that moment she made up her mind. Her hand rested against his cheek, the thumb stroking the stubbled skin beneath. She pulled in a deep breath before pressing her lips hesitantly to his.

****


	8. Chapter 7

So, I've been writing up a storm lately. I have about ten more chapters written, and about three or so more to write. Therefore, I've decided to try to post a chapter either each day or every other day. That being said, I hope you enjoy!

**

* * *

Chapter 7**

"I don't even know if this is what I want," Hermione admitted. She and Ginny were seated in the living room, each holding their sleeping child. "I mean it's Malfoy."

"Hmm, he has been a prat for a really, really long time," Ginny agreed, stroking the cheek of her newborn son, James. "But he's not anymore, right? I mean, Mum told me about the hospital. He allowed her to hug him. _Twice_."

Hermione nodded. "He's not the same Malfoy we grew up with." She glanced down at Gemma, thinking back to that horrid day. It had been Draco who sat by her side, an arm around her shoulders, to comfort her. He had been the one to hug her, to try to kiss her. A small part of her wanted to want him; to make their odd family unit into the real thing.

"Do you worry that he's going to turn back into _that _guy?" Ginny asked. Hermione's eyebrows pulled together in confusion. "I mean, do you think he's going to go back to being the way he was in the beginning - controlling, hateful, unwilling to allow you to be a part of things?"

Hermione shook her head adamantly. "That's not it at all, Gin," she replied. "I'm afraid we'll get in too deep with one another, and then it'll all end. And _then _we'll go back to hating one another. I can't live that way anymore. Things have been peaceful between us the last few months."

Just as Ginny was about to make her argument to the contrary, the front door opened. Both women turned to watch as Draco walked in, hung up his coat, removed his shoes, and entered the living room. He greeted Hermione softly, kissing her cheek before caressing Gemma's curls.

"Sorry, am I interrupting?" he asked, looking back and forth between the friends.

"Not at all," Ginny told him, trying to keep the laughter out of her voice. "I just wanted Mione to get a chance to meet James. You've both been so busy since he was born that she hasn't had a chance to pop by."

Lowering himself onto the couch beside her, Draco furrowed his brow and frowned at Hermione. "You could have gone for a visit. I'm more than capable of watching Gem," he said in a voice low enough for only Hermione to hear.

"I know," she replied just as softly. "But I really have been busy. Ginny understands." Her gaze was averted as the last words came out. It had been a month since James had been born, and she felt like a terrible friend for not seeing him sooner.

Ginny cleared her throat. "I'm gonna get going. This little guy will be fussy soon." The redhead stood, careful of the baby cradled in her arms, and moved over to the floo. Hermione transferred Gemma from her arms to Draco's and joined her. "No insults," she whispered to Hermione with a smile.

"I am sorry I didn't visit sooner," Hermione replied, frowning slightly. Ginny shook her head dismissively and kissed Hermione's cheek before stepping into the fireplace. Draco and Hermione both squinted as the green flame claimed her. She stood there watching as the last embers died away. Tension filled the room, and for a moment, she wondered why she hadn't offered to go to Grimmauld Place with Ginny.

"So, are we not speaking to each other?" Draco wondered aloud, pulling her away from her thoughts.

Hermione whirled around to face him. So often when she looked at him she realized he wasn't the little boy from the Hogwarts Express who called her a mudblood and kicked her out of his compartment. He wasn't the scared teenager who practically wasted away sixth year from the weight of his task to kill Dumbledore. He was an adult now; a caring father who thought of nothing but the sleeping toddler in his arms. Her resolve began to slip away along with the feeling of dread she'd experienced around him since the kiss.

"We are," she said uneasily, her gaze shifting back and forth to anything that wasn't him.

"Doesn't seem that way to me," he replied. Hermione wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly uncomfortable in her own house. "Ever since we kissed, you've been avoiding me. Why is that?"

"I'm not," she said softly.

"Bull shit," Draco spat out through clenched teeth. He was careful enough to keep his voice down so as not to disturb Gemma. "I get notes on my pillow telling me breakfast is on the table. You've been going into the office more and more. Just this morning when I told you I had a meeting with my father's company, you couldn't tear your eyes away from the newspaper long enough to acknowledge me. So don't tell me you aren't avoiding me." Carefully, he stood up and made his way up the stairs. Hermione heard the nursery door open, and minutes later, heard it close again.

She moved over to the chair Ginny had occupied earlier and let her head fall into her hands as tears began to fall. The sounds of footsteps coming down the stairs went unnoticed by the upset girl. She looked up when the footsteps sounded like they would near, but she saw Draco walk towards the kitchen instead. Gathering as much courage as she could, she rose and followed him.

Draco padded around the kitchen in his sock-covered feet as he waited for the tea kettle to whistle. The door opened and swung back and forth a few times. He chose to focus on that rather than the distraught brunette who slumped down in a chair at the kitchen table. He grabbed another tea cup from the cabinet and set a teabag in it. When the water boiled, he poured just enough into the two cups to allow room for milk. He set one in front of Hermione and sat down across from her with his own mug. They sipped quietly, avoiding eye contact with one another.

"You know, I really thought things would change for the better," he finally said. "We've grown so close, and I did worry that you wouldn't return my feelings. But then you kissed me, and there was that brief glimmer of hope that you felt the same way about me."

"I do," she admitted quietly. Looking up, she noticed the hopeful look on Draco's face. When she spoke again, she found that her voice had more power than before. "It just scares me, Draco. _You_ scare me."

"Why?"

Hermione leaned back in her chair and fingered the handle of her tea cup. What she had to say could make or break the friendship they had so carefully crafted since being thrown into their current situation. She inhaled deeply and let the breath out.

"It's not you exactly, just the idea of you," she said cautiously. "We were enemies for so long, and I know we're friends now. It's just not easy for me to completely forget the past."

"Fine," he said, pushing back his chair, the legs scraping angrily against the hardwood floor. "That's just fine."

She stood up and blocked his path to the door. "Wait," she said, resting her hands on his forearms before letting them slide down to his hands. "I do have feelings for you. These feeling just scare the hell out of me."

He squeezed her hands before lacing their fingers together. "They scare me too," he told her, smiling down at her. "And I know you worry about things changing between us if something bad should happen. I just want to see if something _could _happen."

"But what if something _did_ happen? Something bad."

"So we break up, that wouldn't be the worst thing that's happened between us. We'll go slow. The first time one of us starts to question things, we're over. Clean break."

"Promise?" Draco nodded. "Shake on it?"

A smile pulled up the corners of Draco's mouth. "I have a better idea," he said coyly. Then he pressed his lips to hers to seal their deal.


	9. Chapter 8

Just when I thought I had finished writing this story, I decided I didn't like the way it would have ended. So, today (at work) I revamped some of the later chapters. Hopefully I'll be able to have those up soon!

**

* * *

Chapter 8**

Rain pounded the windows as loud claps of thunder rang and bright bolts of lightning illuminated the sky. Gemma's loud cries had Hermione running to the nursery to console the terrified child. She, herself, never slept well during thunderstorms.

"Shh, shh, baby, it's alright," Hermione whispered as she held her close and rubbed her back. Another clap of thunder caused Hermione to jump, and Gemma's cries intensified. As she tried to soothe Gemma's cries, she padded out into the hallway and entered Draco's room. She scowled at the sleeping man, hating him just slightly for being able to sleep through all the noise.

She shook his shoulder several times while harshly whispering his name. When Gemma cried louder as lightning lit up the night sky, Draco startled awake. "Merlin, you scared the hell out of me," he scolded, breathing heavily. "What's wrong? Is she okay?"

"It's the storm," Hermione explained. "We were having a little trouble sleeping."

He scooted over, holding up the blankets. "Get in," he said, reaching out for Gemma. He settled her down by his side and watched as Hermione carefully slid into the bed.

The little girl's sobs began to quiet now that she was in the comforting presence of her parents. Draco slowly rubbed her stomach, a calming technique he'd discovered just after she had been placed in their custody. It wasn't long before she was quiet, her eyelids blinking rapidly as sleep claimed her.

"She's so amazing," Hermione marvelled as she watched Gemma sleep so peacefully.

Draco nodded in agreement. "Did her crying wake you up?" he asked, reaching for Hermione's hand.

"No, I was up. The storm, you know," she admitted sheepishly.

"Scared of storms, are you, Granger?" he teased, smirking as he squeezed her hand.

"I am," she replied indignantly. "You try sleeping in a tent in the middle of the woods for months, not knowing which day could be your last. Storms might have been the least of my troubles, but the thunder and lightning always made me fearful that the enemy was close."

He rose up on his side, careful not to disturb Gemma. "I didn't mean to poke fun," he told her seriously, kissing her softly. "I didn't realize. Sometimes when I visit my parents I'm afraid that when I round the corner I'm going to see You-Know-Who torturing someone in their dining room. I still regret that I couldn't do anything to stop my aunt from hurting you."

A tear slipped down Hermione's cheek as he spoke, and Draco made sure to catch it before it could go any further. "I don't hold you responsible for that," she told him, hoping it would absolve him of his guilt. Detaching her hand from his, she used her now free hand to pull his lips to hers. "Get some sleep."

"Are we still going to the Burrow tomorrow?" he asked, resting his head against his pillow.

Hermione nodded. "We're celebrating some of the kids' birthdays. There's so many; I can't even keep track of whose they are."

He surprised her by saying, "Roxie, Dominique, and little Molly."

Hermione laughed. "You're becoming one of them, Draco Malfoy." She laughed once more and closed her eyes.

The Burrow was loud. Even before they were close to the front door, Draco could hear the raucous sounds of the large family.

"They must be outside," Hermione guessed when no one answered the door, despite Draco's vigorous knocking. They rounded the lopsided house and were met by brooms flying overhead. Gemma squealed in delight at the sight above her.

She began to squirm in her father's arms. "Do you want to go flying?" he asked her, laughing at look of abject horror on Hermione's face. Gemma squealed again and chanted "up, up."

"Perhaps when you're older," Hermione told her.

At that moment, Ginny came over to greet them as she waved her husband down. Harry quickly dismounted his broom and took James from his wife. "He's on nappy duty today," she explained once he was out of sight. "You should take his place, Malfoy. Lunch will be ready soon, and Harry probably won't make it back for the end of the game."

Draco glanced quickly over at Hermione, who seemed to urge him to accept. "Maybe next game," he replied, shifting Gemma from one arm to the other. Ginny shrugged and wandered closer to the game. From the corner of his eye, he could see the questioning look on his significant other's face. "Trust me, they don't want me playing with them. We'll be in the emergency ward as soon as I'm in the air."

Hermione shook her head, but let the subject drop. They stood silently as they watched the game come to an end before Molly called them all inside to eat. George limped up to greet them, a wide smile on his face despite the injury he'd suffered.

"Gigi," Gemma called out excitedly. An embarrassed blush crept into George's cheeks as he accepted the little girl. He kissed her cheek as she continued to chant the nickname. He walked ahead of them into the house, leaving Hermione and Draco to lag behind.

"You're quiet," he observed.

She said nothing as they walked; shuffling her feet and kicking at pebbles. "They won't hurt you, you know," she finally said as they reached the door. Already they could hear the family loudly conversing as food was set out on the table.

Draco scoffed. "Just because I'm with you doesn't change the fact that most of them still hate me," he replied, keeping his voice low for fear that, despite the noise, someone inside would overhear their argument. Hermione opened her mouth to refute his statement, but he silenced her as he continued, "They still see me as the prat from Hogwarts whose sole purpose in life was to ruin yours. Hell, I deserve it, even if I'm not that person anymore. I don't even know why I bothered coming."

He turned to go inside, and Hermione let him. A silly game of Quidditch shouldn't have upset their day. Aside from Ron, most of the family had accepted Draco. Fred and George were still keen on slipping a Puking Pastile or a Canary Cream into his meal, but most newcomers received that treatment. It had impressed Hermione when Draco laughed despite the side effects and commended them for their inventions. She wouldn't allow Draco to ruin her day, she decided steadfastly.

"Oh good, Mione, you're here. I think Gemma's been calling you," Angelina told her.

She glanced over at the happy little girl in her highchair. A constant stream of "mum mum mum mum" came from her as she banged her spoon against the tray. Hermione smiled and shook her head. "She's been doing that for weeks. It's just to entertain herself. Just last week she started with the 'da da da da,' which had Draco running each time." Her smiled widened as she replayed the scene in her mind, but when her eyes landed on a sullen Draco, the smile disappeared. She took the seat beside him and stared straight ahead without really seeing what was in front of her. His hand found hers for an apologetic squeeze before they dug in.

When lunch, cake, and a few presents for the three birthday girls were over, the men headed outside, declaring that it was time the "Quidditch match of the century." Draco, with a slight push from Ginny, joined in, grateful when she allowed him to use her broom with the warning that if he did it any damage she'd kill him.

"So, you and Draco sure looked knackered when you came in," Ginny stated, smiling suggestively.

Hermione shrugged as she helped clean up the lunch plates. "We didn't get much sleep last night."

Ginny giggled, while Angelina offered a sympathetic smile. "The storm?" she asked. Hermione nodded, glad to have someone understand. Angelina turned to Ginny, satisfied, and held out her hand. "That'll be five galleons. I told you they didn't look nearly happy enough for it have been a good, long night of shagging."

A slight guffaw came from Hermione as she glowered at her two friends. "And here I thought you were on my side, Angie," she joked. The backdoor opened, and Fred and George entered, carefully supporting Draco. She dropped her dish towel at the sight of him and moved around the table to help them. "What happened?" she asked, trying to keep the panic from rising in her voice.

"He took a bludger to the stomach," Fred told her as they laid him down on the sofa. "He'll be alright, I reckon. Just had the wind knocked out of him."

"And did either one of you have something to do with the direction of that bludger?" she asked, hands on her hips as she glared at the twins.

George shook his head, noticing the scowl his own wife wore. "No, we swear. It's just the way the game goes sometimes. Honest."

"Alright, out, out, the both of you," Angelina said, giving George a small nudge toward the door. "Let them have some privacy."

"You look a little green." Hermione knelt by the side of the couch, brushing back blonde locks that seemed determined to fall into his eyes. "Sorry I pushed you to play. I didn't honestly think you would get hurt."

Draco shrugged lightly. "It's fine. Up until I got hit, we were having a pretty fun time. I kind of missed playing Seeker alongside Harry," he admitted. They stopped talking when Mrs. Weasley entered with a bottle of Pepper-Up Potion and forced him to take a large spoonful of the vile tasting liquid. "Is Gemmy down for her nap?"

Hermione nodded. "I figured once she wakes up, we'll go home."

"Will you tend to my wounds?" he asked flirtatiously.

Hermione laughed but shifted closer to him. "I think Molly's already done that. The color is starting to come back into your face."

He sat up slowly and shifted closer to the back cushions so that there would be room for her sit. Their lips met briefly. "There are _other _wounds I was hoping you'd help me with," he murmured, kissing her again. Hermione's brows furrowed, unsure as to what he would be referencing. Draco laughed when he realized this. "You've never had to sit with a broom between your legs for a long period of time."

Realization dawned on her in that moment. "I get it," she replied, letting her lips linger over his a little longer. "Splinters."

Draco laughed quietly. "Yes, Hermione, splinters." 


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**  
The years had passed peacefully. The Malfoys had accepted that Hermione was an integral part of Draco's life. The Weasleys had made their peace with Draco. Harry, Ron, and Draco met often for drinks following the work day. Hermione, Draco, and Gemma were happy.

"Post's here," Hermione said the moment Draco entered the kitchen. Breakfast was already on the table, and he sat down to eat before she handed him anything. Occasionally, he glanced up as she flipped through the various letters they had received. Her brows knitted together when she came across one particularly troubling letter. "It's anonymous."

Draco set down his fork and took the letter from her. "It's a paternity test," he said, his expression matching hers.

"Why has the name been blocked out though?" she wondered. Without thinking, she picked Gemma up from her booster seat and hugged her close. Someone obviously wanted their daughter, and that person would have to pry their sweet little girl from their cold, dead hands.

Draco shook his head; he had no answer to give. It seemed odd, even to him, that someone would send only partial results of a paternity test. And if the father was interested in contacting them, what would come next? His mind ran a mile a minute as thoughts of hearings before the Ministry for custody of Gemma ran rampant. He couldn't understand why the father would come forward now, almost three years after her birth. What would happen if another parent stepped into the fold? Whoever this man was had wanted nothing to do with her when Pansy was alive, and Draco planned to use that to their defense.

"I want to show this to my father's lawyers," Draco told her. He rose from his chair and moved over to her. One arm wound around her back, pulling her into his side, while his other hand rubbed Gemma's back. "Perhaps they could help us find out who sent this."

"I'll inquire with the Ministry. They might know something," Hermione replied, unable to pull her eyes away from Gemma. Draco nodded in agreement. Moments passed in silence as the small family comforted one another. "Draco, what if..."

"Don't," he cut her off. "You and me, we're her parents. She took her first steps for us, said her first words for us. We're the ones who take care of her and love her. This is our family, and I'll be damned if some stranger comes in and breaks that up."

The unfamiliar sensation of tears clouded Draco's vision as he spoke, and he was sure Hermione was crying too. He felt her tighten her one-armed grip around his waist, and then he heard the words he feared would never come - "I love you."

"I love you too," he replied, softly kissing her lips. "And everything will be fine. I swear."

Draco sat nervously tapping his fingers against the mahogany table top. Twenty minutes prior, he had been escorted to the conference room he currently sat in, and his lawyer had possession of the paternity test. He sat up straighter each time someone passed by, hoping it would finally be someone who could help. When the door finally opened, Draco had to restrain himself from lunging at the man who had forced him to wait so long.

"You better have good news for me, Merryweather," he told the lawyer angrily.

Merryweather sighed and pulled out a seat, letting the folder in his hands drop to the table. "It's a pretty powerful charm, Mr. Malfoy."

"But you were able to reverse it," Draco prodded, feeling his temperature rise. Merryweather solemnly shook his head, diverting his gaze. Draco's fist connected with the table, eliciting a loud bang. "What the hell are we supposed to do now then?"

Merryweather sighed again and removed his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Now, we wait," he said. Draco's mouth opened in protest, but Merryweather held up a hand to silence him. "A paternity test with no real information isn't much of a threat. We need to wait to see if whoever this is comes up with something else. There isn't much any of us can do with so little information."

Draco leaned back in his seat, suddenly feeling exhausted. "So you're telling me I have to sit and do nothing. Just pray that no one tries to take my daughter from me."

The lawyer gave another solemn nod. "I'm sorry, Mr. Malfoy."

Both men pushed back their chairs and stood. But when Mr. Merryweather extended his hand as a courtesy, Draco stared at it angrily and walked out. His legs felt heavier with each step he took, and he suddenly found that it was hard to breathe in the stifling office building. His pace increased once he stepped out of the lift, his legs carrying him out into the sunny afternoon.

"I thought Malfoys never ran." Draco slowed and turned around to see who would dare speak to him with such a sarcastic and haughty tone of voice. Blaise Zabini ambled up to him with a wry smile on his olive-hued face.

Draco scowled at the sight of his former best friend. He wanted to tell him to go away, to wipe the stupid grin off his face, but no words would form on his tongue. Instead, he took to just walking away.

Blaise's grin widened as he fell into step beside Draco. "So, where are we going?" he asked. Draco didn't reply, but that didn't stop the barrage of questions Blaise threw his way. "So, you and Granger an item yet? How's Pansy's daughter? She's nearly two, right?"

The questions continued on until Draco could no longer stand to hear Blaise's voice. He stopped walking and turned on his friend. "Why do you even care?" Draco asked angrily. He wanted to hit Blaise, to make him feel some modicum of the pain he was currently feeling. "And she'll be three soon."

"She was my friend too, Draco," Blaise replied, a hint of sadness in his usually confident voice. His eyes were cast downward, and the smile he had previously worn was gone. "I feel bad about the way things changed with all of us after the war."

Draco sighed, feeling a headache coming on. "Come by the house," he suggested, though he wasn't sure he really wanted Blaise there.

"You're sure?" Blaise asked, his old confidence returning.

Draco shrugged halfheartedly. "Hermione would tell me it's the right thing to do."

Blaise smiled and continued to walk towards the Apparition point. He was well ahead of Draco, who remained in the same spot. "It's not like I know where you live, Malfoy," he stated sardonically. "You're probably going to have to come with me." A scowl tugged down the corners of Draco's pale face, but he promptly joined his former classmate, and using side-along Apparition, they were soon standing in front of the white-stoned, two story house.

Draco immediately let go of Blaise and moved quickly up the path to the front door. The sounds of giddy laughter greeted him, bringing a sad smile to his face. "I'm home," he called out as he hung up his cloak. "And I've brought company."

"We're in the sitting room," Hermione called back. Draco rounded the small corner with Blaise in tow and entered the room to find Gemma happily stacking together a few colorful wooden blocks. Hermione rose from her spot on the floor and happily greeted him. "Did you find out anything?" she asked hopefully.

Shaking his head, Draco kissed her temple and stepped aside. "But I did run into Blaise," he told her sourly.

They both turned their attentions to the arrogant Italian, but found that he was more focused on Gemma. His eyes seemed softer, his mouth hanging slightly open, but his feet were frozen in their spot. "You weren't kidding, Draco," he finally said, his voice hoarse and low. "She looks exactly like Pansy."

Hermione stood back, worry ghosting over her features. Draco wound his arm around her shoulders, not sure who he was trying to comfort, her or himself. "Did you get a chance to speak to anyone at the Ministry?" he asked her quietly.

"I left a few messages, but haven't heard anything yet," she replied just as softly. "Why is Blaise here?"

Draco was unsure of Blaise's true intentions for visiting, and instead explained only their run-in outside of his lawyer's office. "Slytherins aren't exactly known for being noble," he told her. "I don't know what his angle is, but maybe he really did just want to see her because of Pansy."

"Draco, you don't think he's..." Hermione pulled in a deep breath, but she couldn't finish the sentence.

"I think it's possible, but we won't know for sure until someone can crack that charm," he replied somberly.


	11. Chapter 10

So, I've started on the Epilogue today. I'm a little sad that I've finished the story already. After this, there are about 15 more chapters for you all to read. I'll try to post them more frequently than I had been. Thanks so much to everyone who's reviewed and made my story a favorite. You know I love it!

**

* * *

Chapter 10  
**For months, Blaise visited on a regular basis. Hermione and Draco were no closer to discovering Gemma's true parentage, and the visits made them both uneasy. On the day of Gemma's fourth birthday party, Blaise had arrived at the house unusually early. Under his right arm was a large box, wrapped in pink and silver paper with a matching bow on top. In his left hand was a silver, serpent-engraved flask.

"You will not be feeding my daughter shots," Draco stated tersely as soon as he opened the door.

His former housemate merely smiled and pushed past Draco. "Party's outside, I'm guessing," Blaise said, making his way through the house to the kitchen. He glanced through the sliding glass door to where Hermione and Ginny Potter was busy setting tables and hanging decorations. "Hermione has always been quite good with her charms, hasn't she." Draco eyed him suspiciously, saying nothing, but pushed him aside to join the women. "Must be one hell of a warming charm she's placed on your yard."

"Daddy, up," Gemma demanded as she ran around the tables. Her brown curls were swept up in high pigtails and the pale purple dress she wore was made for twirling. Draco happily obliged her wish and spun around with her in his arms.

"And what are you wishing for, Birthday Girl?" Draco inquired once the spinning stopped.

"A baby," Gemma replied, placing her small hands on his cheeks.

Draco glanced quickly to a surprised Hermione before looking back at the girl in his arms. "But how will a baby fit in here?" he asked, tickling her stomach.

Gemma giggled, her small hands clutching his shirt. "Daddy's silly," she said, laughing harder the more he tickled her.

"He's so good with her," Ginny observed, looking from father and daughter to Hermione as she continued to set up the tables. Hermione nodded and smiled as she moved onto another table. Ginny moved closer to her and took the plates from her hand. "So, it sounds like Gemmy wants a sibling."

"Yes, Gin, I heard," Hermione replied, trying to take back the plates.

Ginny held them above her head, out of Hermione's reach. "Is something the matter, Mione?"

Hermione sighed, and stopped trying to get the plates. "It's nothing. Blaise being here just makes me a little nervous," she admitted.

"There's more bothering you than just that," Ginny replied. "Is everything alright between you and Draco?"

"It's fine," Hermione replied as she made her way into the house.

Ginny followed, and watched as Hermione moved frantically around the kitchen. "So then what's the problem? Does he not live up to the Slytherin sex god hype?" she joked.

Hermione turned around and let a small smile turn up the corners of her lips. "Draco is amazing," she replied wistfully. "He's such a wonderful father, and I love being around him."

"And the sex?" Ginny prodded.

"Is fine." A deep crimson blush filled Hermione's cheeks. "But there's more to a relationship that sleeping together, Gin."

The glass door slid open and Draco poked in his head. "Love, the guests are starting to arrive," he informed them. Hermione nodded and, with Ginny's help, began to carry platters of food out to the yard. Gemma was in George's arms, listening to her chatter away as she tugged on his chin length red hair. Looking around the small gathering, Hermione sought out Draco, who was off in the corner chatting with Harry.

The party was in full swing. Hermione stood beside Draco as they ate. "So, there's something we need to talk about a bit later," she told him, her nerves causing her stomach to churn. She placed down her half-eaten plate of food and took a sip of his water.

"Is something wrong?" Draco asked, his eyebrows drawing together in worry.

"I don't think so," she told him, glad when he relaxed. "It's just something that's come up, and I'm not a hundred percent sure yet, but still."

Draco caressed her cheek and softly kissed her. "You know you can tell me anything."

"Love you," she whispered, wrapping her arms around his waist.

They were interrupted by George who deposited Gemma into Hermione's arms, giving the excuse that the birthday girl needed a bathroom break. Hermione rolled her eyes and began to make her way inside.

"I'll take her," Ginny offered. Hermione handed her over, and followed them inside to get the cake.

"Granger, wait," Blaise called out. He stood up from he seat with his flask in hand. He held it up, and began to speak. "I'd like to propose a toast." Everyone stopped speaking and turned to look at the inebriated Italian. "To Hermione and Draco, who have spent the past three and a half years raising the beautiful little Gemma Parkinson. They've provided her a home and a family, and knowing Draco, not one wish of hers has been denied. So, let's all raise our glasses to the couple who has helped to raise my child." He downed the remaining contents of his flask, but no one else saluted. Mouths hung open, gasps arose, and tears ran down Hermione's cheeks.

She glared at Blaise as the haughty, self-satisfied smirk widened on his face. Draco watched as Hermione ran inside, then the door slammed shut, the glass rattling in the wooden frame. "Mrs. Weasley?" he called out.

The stout, redheaded Weasley matriarch came forward. "I'll check on Hermione," she told him, patting his cheek twice. Draco took off in Blaise's direction and took him by the collar, leading him to the front yard. He pushed Blaise against the house and tightened his grip on his robes.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he growled, slamming Blaise's shoulders back.

Despite their current position, Blaise still allowed a smirk to grace his features. "Pointing out the very thing you and your little girlfriend haven't been able to see in the past few months, hell maybe even longer. I _am_ Gemma's father. Her _real_ father."

The grin began to fade as Draco let on hand fall from his robes in order to thrust his wand tip under Blaise's chin. "_You _are _not_ her father. _You _were a selfish bastard who left Pansy to fend for herself when she told you she was pregnant. How many witches did she have to read about you bedding while she was sick and trying to raise a newborn? Where were you when she died? Where were you when Hermione and I were tasked with raising Gemma? Where the fuck were you, Zabini?"

"Lower your wand, Draco," Blaise chided, as if he had not just experienced his friend's breakdown. This only caused Draco to jab it harder into the soft skin. "Why do we so often idealize the dead? Has it never occurred to you that Pansy tricked me into giving her a child? She was, after all, a Slytherin, and her family had fallen out of favor following the war. Much like yours actually. Only, you would never give her the time the day. She told me it was just a shag, and that she was taking a contraceptive potion. Guess we all know how false that was. She was desperate for a child, and even more desperate to marry a wizard who wasn't associated with the Dark Lord."

"Leave," Draco said through clenched teeth. "Now. And know from now on that you are not welcomed in this house." He released his hold, pushing Blaise away from himself. Turning on his heel, the angry blonde stalked into the house; the party out back completely forgotten. He took the stairs two at a time, stopping only when he reached his bedroom door. Softly, he pushed it open and saw Hermione sitting on the bed with her back to him.

"He's going to take her," Hermione said, not turning around. It wasn't a question, but a sad statement laced with fear and anxiety.

Draco moved to the bed and sat in front of her. Her face was puffy and tear streaked, her brown eyes surrounded by tears and redness. "I don't know," he told her. He took hold of her hand, giving the smaller fingers a comforting squeeze. She moved closer to him, fitting perfectly into his side as he reclined on the bed.

Hermione sighed, rubbing the excess moisture from her left eye. "What's going to happen now?"

Running his free hand through his locks, Draco shook his head. "I really hate not having any answers for you, love," he replied softly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "All I do know, though, is I plan to fight for Gemma. I'm not going to let her go easily."

Hermione looked up. "Me neither," she told him, the quaver gone from her voice. She placed her head back down on his chest and breathed in his scent. They lay together in silence, enjoying the few moments of respite after the debacle earlier. It wasn't until they heard a knock at the door that Draco rose. He opened it to reveal Mrs. Weasley, who wore a strained smile on her face, as she held a sleepy Gemma in her arms.

"Everyone's gone home," she informed him. "The backyard has been cleaned up, so there's no need to worry about that. This little one has been bathed, changed, and fed, and looks about ready for a nap. Just thought you dears would like to say goodnight to her before I put her down."

"I'll take her," Draco offered. "You've done more than enough to help us today, Mrs. Weasley. Thank you for everything." He took Gemma from her and held her close.

Mrs. Weasley offered a kind smile and pulled him into a hug, careful to avoid crushing Gemma. "You've become quite a good man, Draco," she commented. She glanced over his shoulder to where Hermione lay on the bed. A small frown pulled down the corners of Mrs. Weasley's mouth at the sight of such a strong girl falling apart. "Give Hermione a hug for me," Mrs. Weasley requested. Draco nodded and watched her leave. He closed the door and went back to his bed, gently laying Gemma down beside Hermione. A fresh wave of tears clouded her brown eyes at the sight of her. Draco leaned down and stroked her cheek, occasionally pushing away her curls.

"Why don't you try to get some rest," he suggested. "I'll go downstairs and make dinner. You hardly ate at the party."

Hermione shook her head stubbornly. "Don't go."

He took a seat beside his girls and let his hand trace lazy patterns on Hermione's arm. He would wait for her to fall asleep before sneaking downstairs. Her fear that Blaise would try to gain custody of Gemma resonated in Draco's mind, and he needed to get Merryweather's advice.

"Draco?" He looked down at Hermione and smiled. She reached for his hand, holding onto it tightly. "There's something I need to tell you."

"What's wrong?" he asked, trying to keep his worry at bay.

She moved into a seated position, his hand still in her own. She took a deep breath and spoke, "I think I'm pregnant."


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**  
Four years ago, if someone had told Draco Malfoy that he and Harry Potter would be meeting in the Three Broomsticks, drinking butterbeer and discussing life's problems, he would have hexed that person on the spot.

"You look like you're dressed for a funeral," Harry joked when he walked in. Draco was dressed in crisp, black dress pants with a black turtleneck sweater and a matching blazer. The blonde didn't crack a smile as he took a seat at the bar and ordered a drink. "What's wrong?"

Draco sighed, took a long pull of his newly arrived butterbeer, and breathed in deeply. "Hermione's pregnant," he muttered, digging the heels of his hands against his eyes. "I haven't slept in three days. Gemma's getting a cold. Who knows what the hell Blaise is up to. I just keep waiting for something to happen there, but nothing has."

When Draco finally opened his eyes, Harry stared at him slack-jawed. Small sounds came from the raven-haired man, but no complete words seemed to form. He pulled off the round glasses that he'd worn since childhood and rubbed at his bright green eyes. He slid them back on, pushing them up the bridge of his nose.

"I didn't realize it was that serious between you and Hermione," he finally said after a long sip of his drink.

"We've been together for about two years, and I love her," Draco said somberly, turning around and leaning his back against the bar. "I just wasn't expecting _this_. And with the uncertainty surrounding Gemma and Blaise, I don't know how to handle a pregnancy on top of it all."

"And how does Hermione feel about all of this?" Harry wondered.

Draco shrugged. "I think she's scared. She doesn't seem to want to talk much about it though," he shared. "The other night she did mention that she's afraid that I'll leave her like Blaise did to Pansy." Harry shot him a pointed look, as if to ask if her fears were valid. Draco scowled, feeling his temper flare. "I'm not going to leave her. Our situation is nothing like what Pansy went through."

"Does she know that?"

"I don't know," Draco replied. He turned around on his stool and dropped a few sickles on the bar. "I have to go."

It wasn't long before Draco was home. He stared nervously at the house, his heart rate increasing with each step forward. The door seemed to weigh one hundred pounds as he pushed it open and closed it behind him. His mouth was suddenly dry as he called out for Hermione. His feet were rooted in their spot near the front door when she appeared from the kitchen with Gemma on her hip.

"Umm, hi," he said nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked warily, propping Gemma up higher.

He cleared his throat, his mouth still feeling like sand. "I want to marry you," he said softly.

Hermione began to lose her grip on Gemma and let her slide to her feet. "Go play for a minute, sweetie," she told her, all the while staring at Draco. "Now, what did you just say?" she asked him.

Slowly, he closed the distance separating them. "I want to marry you," he said more definitively. He lowered his lips to hers in a soft kiss.

Resting her hands against his chest, Hermione softly pushed him away. "Draco, you don't have to," she assured him.

"I need you to know that I'm not going anywhere," he told her, taking hold of her hands. "I don't want you to ever wonder if, one morning you'll wake up, and I'll be gone. I don't ever want to leave you. I _want _to marry you."

Hermione shook her head. "But you don't have to," she said again.

"But I want to," Draco argued with a small chuckle. "We love each other, right?" Hermione nodded. "I want us to be a family. A real family."

His gaze shifted from the witch in front of him to the curly haired toddler happily playing on the living room floor. The room was always a mess of toys. Not a day went by that Draco didn't trip over a block or step on a doll. But he had told Hermione time and again that he wouldn't have had it any other way. The mess, the chaos, the uncertainty of each day excited him.

Growing up with Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy had been a completely opposite experience. Toys were not permitted outside of his playroom. He was never allowed free reign of Malfoy Manor at such a young age. When bad dreams frightened him awake at night, his parents' bed was the last place he would have considered going.

Gemma had her parents' undivided attention, and the love of an extended family in the Weasleys. It had never occurred to Draco that he could have a happy family life, but that was what had been provided to him when he and Hermione began to raise Pansy's little girl together. And with the promise of a new baby, a new life, Draco felt the desire to make their family more complete.

When Hermione gave no reply, Draco continued, "I'm scared, Hermione. Scared that Blaise will take Gemma away. Scared that I won't know how to help you through this pregnancy. Scared that I won't be a good father to our baby. Hell, I'm scared that you won't need me."

"That's not true," Hermione insisted. "It amazes me every day that I get to be with you. I don't know how I'd get through this without you. It's just...I don't want you to think you _need_ to marry me because of the baby."

Draco shook his head, tightening his grip on her hands. "Do you remember those name change papers you gave me? The ones that would officially make Gemma a Malfoy?" Hermione nodded her head, unsure as to where Draco was going. "It was before we were together, and I didn't really think we would ever get together. We still couldn't really stand one another, remember? But there was something about those papers, something that made me wish we could be a family, and I swore to myself that I wouldn't submit those papers until we were one.

"So, what do you say? Can we all officially be Malfoys? All four of us?" he asked hopefully, gray eyes sparkling with an expectant fear.

Hermione smiled, her own eyes glimmering with tears. "Yes," she whispered. "Let's make it official."


	13. Chapter 12

I might have mentioned this before, but I work for a publishing house. And today I had to work on the Spring 2011 catalog. So, I'm going through the titles, and I come across Warwick Davis's _Size Matters Not. _Yep! We're publishing Professor Flitwick's book!

**

* * *

Chapter 12**

Hermione was seated at the Weasley family's kitchen table, dressed in wedding robes with a box of tissues and a mug of now cold tea in front of her. Weddings at the Burrow never went off without a hitch. Bill's wedding was attacked by Death Eaters. At George's wedding, the twins had set off so many fireworks that they burned down half the orchard. Ron had gotten so drunk at Harry and Ginny's celebration that he passed out in the wedding cake.

And then there was Draco and Hermione's wedding. The ceremony was beautiful. The sun shone brightly overhead, the weather was perfect. No one fell into the cake at the reception, the fireworks didn't burn anything down, no one made a fool of themselves. Draco's parents had even shown up to see their son get married. It wasn't until afterwards, when Draco attempted to file Gemma's name change application that a problem arose.

Percy Weasley sat across from Hermione and Draco, and calmly explained the situation. "Blaise Zabini has filed a petition to gain custody of Gemma. As her biological father, there is a very good chance that his petition will pass."

"But he can't do that," Hermione said, her sobs causing hiccups to punctuate her words. "We signed the adoption papers years ago. She's ours."

Draco stroked her back comfortingly. He couldn't speak as he heard the news. Just when life seemed perfect, someone was pulling the rug out from underneath him. He thought he would finally have the family he always dreamed of - a wife whom he loved more than anything, a daughter he adored, and a new baby on the way.

"Is there anything we can do?" Draco asked, trying to keep his voice even. He didn't want to let his panic show through. He needed to keep his calm for his wife's sake.

Percy removed his horn-rimmed glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't know," he admitted. "You could go before the Ministry, present your case. Explain to them that you've raised Gemma since her mother died, and Blaise has been absent for the majority of that time. I don't know if it'll work, but it could be worth a try."

"And what happens to Gemma in the meantime?" Hermione wondered, suddenly feeling angry.

Percy's freckled cheeks flushed as he spoke solemnly, "Gemma will placed in the Ministry's custody until a final decision is rendered. She'll be sent back to the orphanage she was in before the adoption went through." He pushed back his chair and stood. "I'll leave you two to discuss this in private. You know how to contact me if you have any further questions."

Draco, too, stood and shook hands with Percy. When Percy had exited the kitchen, Draco took his seat once more. "Why don't you go get changed, and then we'll go home," he suggested, wiping away a stray tear that made its way down Hermione's cheek. "I know Mrs. Weasley offered to take Gemmy for the night, but I think we'd both be happier with her at home."

Hermione nodded and rose, taking an extra tissue with her. Draco watched as she climbed the stairs slowly, soft sniffles coming occasionally. When she was out of sight, he sighed and rested his head in his hands. He felt the strain of tears hit his heads, and blinked rapidly before they could fall. The door opened from the backyard, causing a startled Draco to jump out of his seat.

"This little one has started to fall asleep," Mrs. Weasley told him. The smile she wore soon began to slip away when she noticed the look of sadness and fear on the blonde's face. "What's happened?" she asked quietly, so as not to disturb the sleeping toddler in her arms.

"We're going to take her home tonight," was all he could manage to say. He moved closer to the short witch, and stooping down a few inches, relieved her of his daughter. His eyes lingered on Gemma's sleeping form as she lay cradled in her father's protective arms. His emotions began to betray him and a singular tear slipped down his cheek.

A solemn look crossed Molly's pale, rounded face. Though she wasn't unaware of the news Percy had given the couple, she sensed that something was troubling the young wizard. "Are you sure you and Hermione wouldn't like a night alone?" Molly asked quietly.

Draco shook his head, looking up just as Hermione descended the staircase. She had changed into a simple pair of jeans and an old t-shirt, her heels replaced by worn trainers, and her hair was thrown up into a haphazardly constructed bun. Her cheeks, which had been washed of the little makeup she wore, were flushed and her brown eyes were sorrowfully puffy. "I'm ready to go whenever you are," she announced tiredly.

Mrs. Weasley wound her arms around Hermione tightly. "Congratulations, sweetheart," she said cheerily, kissing the young witch's cheek. "You come by sometime soon. And you bring that little angel with you."

Hermione nodded, her lips tucked tightly between her teeth to keep from crying once more. She turned towards the front door, ready to go home.

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley, for everything," Draco said softly before joining her. They ventured silently into the crisp, cool night. Christmas would be upon them soon, but neither one felt the joy and cheerfulness that surrounded the holiday. They soon reached the Apparition point just before the edge of the Weasleys' property, and were soon home. Hermione sluggishly climbed the steps; mentally and physically exhausted from the day. Draco was a few stairs behind her, careful not to wake Gemma.

"Do you think she could sleep with us tonight?" Hermione asked, her voice sounding small and meek. His hand had been on the doorknob to the nursery, but at her request, he instead followed her to their bedroom. Hermione pulled back the blankets, and Draco settled Gemma in the middle of the bed. He rounded the bed and placed a soft kiss on Hermione's forehead before closing the bathroom door. Hermione undid her jeans and let them fall to the floor, before dropping her shirt on top of them. Just as the bathroom door opened, she had slid her nightgown on and climbed into their king-sized bed beside Gemma. Once Draco joined them, the lights were extinguished, the pale moonlight the only thing that illuminated Hermione's features.

She closed her eyes, praying that if she squeezed them together tightly enough sleep would take her. Spots of light floated through her vision from the pressure and she finally opened them, rolled onto her back, and let out an exasperated sigh.

"I can't sleep either," Draco declared, moving into the same position. Hermione sighed again and threw off the blankets that covered her. "I'm sorry you had such a bad day."

She turned onto her side and reached for his hand. "It wasn't a bad day," she told him, letting a small smile appear on her face. "It was actually a very good day. I did get to marry you, after all. It was just later that wasn't so great."

They lay in the dark and silence, staring only at one another. "I think I made a mistake," Draco finally said, tearing his eyes away from his wife to look at the sleeping girl between them.

"About what?" Hermione asked warily, leaning up on her elbow.

"I told Blaise he wasn't to ever come back here again," he told her. "After his announcement at Gem's party, I just...I don't know. I got scared, and I told him he wasn't welcome here anymore. What if that was the catalyst? What if I hadn't told him that? Maybe he wouldn't be filing petitions with the Ministry to take her away from us."

"You did the right thing," she replied, a sad smile on her face. "You did the right thing for your family. You did what you needed to do to protect your daughter. Because she _is_ your daughter, love. Don't drive yourself crazy with 'what ifs.'"

Draco released a small sigh and covered his eyes with his forearm. "I can't help it," he murmured.

Hermione laid back down. The silence enveloped them once more. Draco's what ifs resonated in Hermione's mind. Blaise was sneaky and cunning. The months he'd spent around Gemma before dropping the news had just been a ploy to get close to the family. She wondered if he really even cared about Gemma.

"Draco?" she asked tentatively, unsure if he was still awake. When he made a small grunt, she continued, "You know I wouldn't normally ask this of you, but do whatever you have to do to keep Gem."


	14. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

He was starting to hate the wizard pub scene. For three straight nights, Draco had waited outside of the Leaky Cauldron, hoping to catch some sight of Blaise. He fingered his wedding ring as the door opened. From the corner of his eye he saw Blaise with his arm around a blonde, who giggled with each word he whispered in her ear.

"Blaise!" he called out as he and the blonde passed him.

The Italian stopped and turned back to see who had called out his name. His dark eyes were glassy from a night of drinking and there was a small stagger in his steps. But he seemed to sober up, even just a bit, at the sight of Draco Malfoy waiting outside of the pub for him. He removed his arm from the blonde's shoulders. "Wait for me," he instructed, his words only slightly slurred. He walked over to Draco, a smirk playing on his lips at the sight of his friend. "And to what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Malfoy?"

Draco pulled in a calming breath as he tried to keep his anger in check. "Just thought you'd like to know that in a week's time, Gemma will become a ward of the Ministry." His words sounded so nonchalant in his ears, despite the rapid pounding of his heart. "It'll remain that way until you either drop your petition for custody, or the Ministry makes a final ruling. Whichever comes first."

Blaise's shoulders lifted carelessly. "She's mine," was all he said. Draco scowled, his fists clenched, and he momentarily had to close his eyes to keep from seeing red. "What do you want me to say, Draco?"

Draco opened his eyes. "I want you to tell me what it'll take to get you to drop your petition," he replied icily.

Not a hair on his head moved from it's perfectly coiffed place as Blaise shook his head. "Don't you get it, mate? There's nothing you _can _do."

Blaise began to walk away, back to his blonde, when Draco reached out with a tight grip on his arm. "Did you not hear me when I said Gemma will go back into the Ministry's custody?" he asked tightly. "The only family, the only home that little girl has ever known has been mine. If you don't care about Hermione's or my feelings, then, at the very least, consider what you're putting...your daughter through." He swallowed hard as the words "your daughter" still tasted vile on his tongue.

"You could just hand her over to me," Blaise suggested tastelessly as he tried to wrench his arm out of Draco's grasp.

Draco shook his head. "You already made this an official claim. The Ministry has no choice but to intercede."

Finally, Blaise freed himself and took a step back from Draco. Suddenly, two hours of drinking had no baring on his senses. He was seeing straight, his words no longer jumbled together. For the first time since he filed his custody petition, Blaise wondered if he was doing the right thing. He had no idea how one raised a child, especially alone. He had no idea if he even wanted to raise a child on his own. It felt like there wasn't one paternal bone in his body. But, despite all the reasons why he shouldn't do it, the Slytherin side came out. His pride wouldn't allow him to renege on such a decision.

"Well?"

Draco's voice cut through his thoughts. Blaise met the blonde's eyes before turning back to his old housemate. "Well what?" Blaise inquired gruffly.

"If you drop your claim, this whole thing goes away and Gemma gets to stay in her own home," Draco explained impatiently.

"But I'm not there," Blaise countered. "And, as I recall, you were the one who said I was no longer welcomed."

"Is that all it'll take?" Draco asked, hopeful for the first time in days.

A mirthless laugh was produced deep within the Italian's throat. Both men heard the blonde huff in annoyance. Blaise stepped closer to her, indicating that he was ready to leave. "No," he replied, quirking an eyebrow. "But, ya know, you show a little kindness to me, and maybe I'll show a little to you and Granger once I have custody of my child. Or...is it you and Malfoy now? Congratulations on the nuptials, by the way."

Draco remained rooted in his spot as he watched the blonde and Blaise walk out of sight. He was unsure if their conversation had helped or hindered his case.

It had been years since Hermione had stood in front of Malfoy Manor. The same terror that she had felt last time came rushing back with each step closer. Although the war had cost the Malfoys much of their reputation and social standing, they were still not a family with which one would trifle. Hermione knew that her husband had plans to handle Blaise himself, but having Lucius and Narcissa backing them up could only prove helpful in the long run.

She knocked hesitantly on the large door, counting the seconds before it was finally opened.

"Grandpa," Gemma exclaimed happily at the sight of Lucius. The stone-like expression he normally wore melted into a smile at the sight of the little girl. He stooped down to her height and opened his arms to her.

"And to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" he inquired, standing back up with Gemma securely in his arms.

"A situation has come up," Hermione replied, trying to keep her nerves in check. "And I think we may need your help."

The door widened to allow her entrance, and Lucius quickly led her to the main sitting room. Narcissa was already stationed on the settee, a book in one hand and a tea cup just within reach of the other. She looked up just as the trio entered; Gemma talking her grandfather's ear off.

"Uncle Ron took me up on his broomstick, but Mummy isn't supposed to know about that," she stated seriously, looking over his shoulder to gauge her mother's reaction. Upon receiving none, she continued on. "But Mum Mum, that's Uncle Ron's mummy, she found out. I think he got in trouble. He's probably not going to be allowed any sweets for a week. Daddy told me that's what happens when you do something bad. You can't have a sweet, not one, for a whole week. And that's a really long time not to have one, Grandpa."

Narcissa and Lucius chuckled at the graveness of Gemma's tone. It was as if she were announcing the return of Lord Voldemort, rather than a punishment Lucius was sure no grown adult would receive. He set her down on her feet and told her to play quietly before turning to Hermione. Gesturing to an open seat, Lucius waited until both women were comfortable before taking his own.

"Can I get you anything, Hermione? Tea, water, biscuits?" Narcissa asked, snapping together her fingers to summon the house elf. Hermione shook her head, and the lady of the house dismissed the elf with a shake of her head.

"So, what was it you need to discuss?" Lucius inquired, watching as the young witch ran her diamond studded left hand over her just slightly rounded stomach.

"Draco's already told us about the baby," Narcissa informed her, picking up on Hermione's actions as well.

Again, the brunette shook her head. "It isn't that," she said softly, letting her eyes flicker over to Gemma. She sat close to a bookshelf, staring at the different colored spines. Hermione laughed when she plucked one title off the shelf and began to flip through the pages. "She's just learning how to read," she proudly informed the Malfoys. She produced a wistful sigh, and then begrudgingly launched into the information they had learned regarding Blaise's paternity case.

As she finished, she noticed the grim look that settled on Lucius's face and the one of sheer horror that took over Narcissa's usually detached features. Three sets of eyes moved over to Gemma, who sat in the corner with the book in her lap. She was quiet and content, lost in her own little world and completely unaware of the turmoil that surrounded her family and herself.

It was Lucius who spoke first. "You will have our full support on this. My company employs the best lawyers in the wizarding world, and they are at your disposal, should you need them. Might I also suggest that you speak with Mr. Potter? He has very strong Ministry ties. Perhaps he would be useful in helping to keep Gemma out of Ministry custody." His gaze shifted to Hermione briefly before settled on Gemma once more.

"To be honest, I hadn't thought of involving Harry," Hermione replied thoughtfully. The idea had definite merits, and could prove favorable. A look of relative calm passed over Hermione's features at the thought. At that moment, Gemma wandered over to the adults. She handed Hermione the book, then proceeded to climb onto the sofa and into her mother's lap.

"Thank you for coming to us about this, dear," Narcissa said gratefully. "You and Draco have enough to worry about, between the new baby and this mess with Blaise. It'll be good to lift some of that weight from your shoulders."

Gemma looked up with wide brown eyes at Hermione. "There's a baby?" she asked, her voice a mix of excitement and wary.

Hermione shot her mother-in-law a reproachful look. "I shouldn't have said that," the older witch muttered to herself, as a blush crept into her cheeks.

"It's fine," Hermione relented before turning her attentions back to Gemma. "Yes, Mummy and Daddy are going to have a baby. Just like you wished for on your birthday. Remember?"

Gemma sighed. "Yeah," she replied softly. "Mummy, can we go home now?"

Lucius and Narcissa rose as Hermione nodded her head. Gemma climbed off her lap and hugged her grandparents goodbye. She stood in the archway as Hermione bade her own goodbyes to the Malfoys.

"Thank you for your help," she said sincerely, hugging Lucius for only the second time since she'd known him as more than the frightening Death Eater father of her enemy, Draco Malfoy.

"You are family now, and Malfoys always take care of their family," he told her sagely. "And this _will _be taken care of."


	15. Chapter 14

******Chapter 14**  
Hermione stood in Gemma's bedroom, a small pink teddy bear in her hands, as she finished packing the little girl's belongings. Ministry officials would be arriving the next day to pick her up. They had tried to fight the rule that children caught in custody battles would become wards of the Ministry, but to no avail. Harry had even gotten involved, but had no luck reaching Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister of Magic.

"Hey, Harry's downstairs," Draco said, sticking his head in between the crack of the door. When Hermione didn't turn around, he entered the room and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Did you hear me?"

The brunette nodded and finally looked up at him. He wore an expression similar to her own - fearful, anxious, sad. "How are we going to tell her?" she wondered. "She's too young to understand this arrangement. I thought we'd have a few more years before we had to tell her."

Draco ran a hand over her stomach. She was just about four months along, and the bump was still small enough to conceal. "Why don't you come downstairs and hear what Harry has to say," he suggested, kissing her temple.

"Alright," she agreed resignedly. "This better be good." She moved out of Draco's arms, and, teddy bear still in hand, exited the room. The sounds of laughter reached her ears as she descended the stairs, Draco not far behind her. Gemma was in Harry's arms, a smile on her face as he tickled her. They both turned to look when Hermione' cleared her throat.

"Hey, Mione. How are you doing?" he asked quietly. He bent down to set Gemma on her feet before hugging his best friend.

"Fine, I guess," she replied. "Draco said you had something to tell us?" Her tone was less than hopeful; too much bad news had come to pass for the young witch to have much hope.

Harry nodded and gestured for them to sit down. Hermione and Draco stationed themselves on the sofa, while Harry sat on the edge of the coffee table across from them. "So, it has to do with Gem," Harry started, checking behind him to make sure the little girl was occupied. He didn't want to say something that she might overhear, and upset her. "I didn't have much luck going through the normal channels, but Kingsley was more than happy to sit down with me. I explained your situation, and I was surprised to learn that he knew all about it. While he can't do anything regarding her custody until the hearing, he has agreed to overturn the ruling that Gemma be placed into Ministry custody for the time being."

Draco let out a sigh of relief. He hadn't even been aware that he held his breath as Harry spoke. He looked over to Hermione, whose expression hadn't changed since she entered the room. "This is good news, love," he said, squeezing her hand.

"No, it's not," Hermione argued, using her free hand to wipe away the stubborn tears that clung to her lashes. Draco's brow furrowed in confusion. "Don't you see? This is just prolonging the inevitable. Blaise has genetics on his side, and what have we got? Harry Potter? That's not going to make much of a difference in the end."

Draco dropped her hand as if it burned. His confusion was beginning to turn to anger with each word she spoke. "So, what you're saying is let's just give up?" He spoke low enough for only Hermione and Harry to hear. His teeth were clenched and his words tight. "What happened to doing whatever we have to do to keep her?" He stood up and stormed out of the living room, ignoring Gemma's calls as he left.

Hermione looked to Harry to back her up, but received no such attention. "I'll watch her while you go sort this out with your husband." It wasn't a suggestion as much as it was an order. He rose from the coffee table and moved over to Gemma. "Want to play with your favorite uncle while mummy and daddy have some grown up time?" he asked the little girl, eyeing Hermione as she made her way towards the staircase.

"But Gigi's my favorite uncle," Gemma replied, a touch of uncertainty in her voice. It was the last comment Hermione heard before she reached her bedroom. The master bedroom was empty, which seemed odd to Hermione as that was Draco's usual retreat when they were angry with one another. She stepped out of the room, closing the door behind her, as she went to Gemma's room. A soft pounding could be heard through the wall, and Hermione quickly abandoned the nursery for her old room.

"What are you doing?" she asked as she entered the room. She let the door click shut behind her as she surveyed the room. The walls were done in a light yellow, as they had been when she resided there. But now the furniture was gone, the white rug pulled up, and a border with teddy bears lined the top of the walls.

Draco shrugged as he held up the instruction manual for a changing table. "Trying to figure out how to build this thing," he muttered. "I had intended for the new nursery to be a surprise, but leave it to you to ruin that."

A frown pulled down the corners of her lips. "I'm sorry about what I said. I don't want to give up fighting for Gemma. I can't even begin to think what it would be like without her." The tears were fresh once more as she spoke. She stepped closer to Draco, but he refused to give her the comfort she so desperately sought. "It scares me more than anything that we may lose her, and to Blaise Zabini of all people."

"But it's still inevitable that she'll go to him," Draco retorted tersely, going back to his instructions. "Why do my parents know about all of this, Hermione?"

Hermione's eyes widened when she heard his question. Curiosity mingled with impatience as he spoke the words. He was quiet as she answered, "I went to see them. I thought they could help."

"You hoped they'd throw a little money his way," he suggested sarcastically.

Hermione balked at the thought. "They have your best interests at heart, Draco," she argued. "And no, I didn't expect them to pay him off. I can't believe you would deign to think so little of me."

"I was handling it, like you asked me to do," he informed her.

Hermione scoffed. "Well, that worked out well, didn't it." Draco threw down the manual he had so tightly gripped in his hands moments ago. His face was red with anger, and he felt the best thing to do would be to leave. Hermione turned as he reached the door. "That's it, Draco, run away again," she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

He stopped and let go of the doorknob. "Right, because that's what I do best. Is that right, Hermione?" he inquired angrily. "I run away. I run and hide in my Ministry office or at the Burrow or at Harry's house. Oh, wait, that's you. I gave up on running away a long time ago. Stop comparing me to the child I used to be."

Her mouth was set in a straight line as her eyes narrowed at him. She uncrossed her arms and made her way to the door. She would leave first; after all, that was what she did best, according to Draco. It was in Gemma's nursery where she found solace. The room was decorated in soft pinks and purples. The crib was long gone, replaced with a princess-themed bed shortly before her second birthday. Stuffed animals littered the corner near her bed, and a toy chest overflowed with dolls and Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes products that were deemed suitable for young children. The rocking chair and loveseat were still in the room, and Hermione decided the rocking chair would calm her as it did Gemma on many nights. She let a small sob escape her lips as she replayed the fight in her mind.

The door opened and Draco entered. "Do you think we can talk without fighting?" he asked, stooping down in front of her. Her eyes were thick with tears as she emitted another small sob. Slowly, she lifted her right shoulder in a shrug. Draco took her hand and pulled her out of the chair. He sat down and pulled her onto his lap. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said the things I did."

"I'm sorry too," she admitted. His arms tightened around her waist as they sat in silence. It was the first peaceful moment they had shared in weeks, and neither wanted to disrupt it by speaking.

The door squeaked as little hands pushed it open farther. Gemma stood in her doorway, a frown on her round face at the sight of her parents. She wandered over to the rocking chair and looked up at her father. "Daddy, why's Mummy sad?"

Hermione lifted her head from Draco's shoulder, and the two looked at each other. The look they gave each other conveyed that it might be time to tell the little girl the news they had so long put off. Hermione rose from his lap and moved over to the loveseat. Draco soon followed and pulled Gemma onto his lap.

"There's something Mummy and Daddy need to tell you," Draco started. Slipping his hand into his pocket, he pulled out his wallet and produced a moving picture of Pansy at age seventeen. It was the last photo he had of her, taken before seventh year had begun. He handed the picture to Gemma who studied it closely.

"She's pretty, Daddy," Gemma commented. "Who is she?"

Draco sighed and reached for Hermione's hand. "Her name is Pansy. Pansy Parkinson. She's your mum. Your real mum." His gaze lingered on Gemma's emotionless face.

Then she did the most unexpected thing. She laughed. "You're silly, Daddy," she declared, hopping off of his lap. She moved over to Hermione, placing her hands on her mother's knees. "This is my mummy," and then she pointed to Hermione's stomach, "and that's my baby sister."

Draco shook his head at her as Hermione looked away. "I'm sorry, sweetheart."

Gemma's dark eyes brimmed with tears. For the first time, Draco realized she had Blaise's eyes, and he had to force himself to look into them. "But why?" she asked, her lower lip starting to quiver. He pulled her closer once more and explained the arrangement as well as he could to a four year-old. He explained that Pansy had to go away, but she couldn't come back. He told her that he and Pansy had been such good friends, since they were her age, and because of that she entrusted her little girl to him and Hermione.

Gemma sat silently, listening as he spoke. "If Mummy isn't really my mummy, does that mean you aren't really my daddy?" she asked when Draco finished.

Draco shook his head. "I'm sorry, sweetheart."

****


	16. Chapter 15

Hey everyone! Sorry for the lack of updates. I just got back from vacation, and I've really never been happier to see my apartment again. Anyhow, enjoy the chapter! And Happy Halloween!

**

* * *

Chapter 15 **  
The grand hearing room at the Ministry of Magic was silent as the Wizengamot deliberated. Blaise hadn't shown for the scheduled hearing, and the Minister decided they would have to make their decision without him. Hermione sat nervously, glancing around at the large group of officials and hoping for some indication that things would go their way.

"How much longer do you think this will take?" Draco whispered, holding tighter to his wife's hand.

Hermione shrugged and looked away from the Wizengamot for the moment. "Hopefully not much longer," she told him. "I'm not sure how much longer Harry can watch Gemma."

"Maybe it wasn't the best idea leaving her with him in his office," Draco agreed, letting out a small chuckle at the thought of the spirited four year-old destroying the Auror's office. "Might be good practice though, for when James and Al reach that age. Plus, they have another one on the way, right? It shouldn't surprise me that a Weasley would want a lot of children."

Hermione pinched the underside of his arm, eliciting a small gasp of pain from the wizard beside her. "Remember, love, you like them now. And they like you. Let's not make mean little comments you'll only regret later."

"Fine, fine," Draco muttered as Kingsley Shacklebolt cleared his throat. They turned their attention back to the Wizengamot as Shacklebolt rose from his seat.

"This was a very difficult decision to make," he started, his eyes seemed to be trained on Hermione. "Draco and Hermione Malfoy, formerly Granger, were tasked with the sole responsibility of raising Gemma Parkinson by her mother, the deceased Pansy Parkinson." Draco winced at the use of the word deceased. "It was never specified in any of the child's records that her true parentage extended to Blaise Zabini, however tests have shown this to be the truth.

"As for our ruling," Kingsley continued, pulling in a deep breath. "As Mr. Zabini failed to appear to give his testimony on the matter, we have decided that sole custody will remain with the Malfoys. Are there any questions?"

Draco shook his head, happy to have the ruling in their favor. But Hermione stepped forward. "What happens if Blaise decides once again that he wants custody of her?"

Shacklebolt smiled kindly at the witch. "You have nothing to worry about, Mrs. Malfoy," he assured her. "This claim is now closed. Mr. Zabini will have a hell of a time opening it again. Excuse my language."

Hermione turned to Draco, feeling the waves of happiness rolling off of him. "She's ours? Gemma's really ours?" She needed the confirmation before she would allow even a hint of a smile to touch her lips.

Draco nodded and hugged her tight. "I don't even care what brought this change about," he told her. "I'm just so happy that it's over." They exited the hearing chambers, intent on making their way to the Aurors' Department when they were stopped by the sight of Blaise Zabini loitering in the hallways.

"Congratulations," the Italian drawled, lazily leaning back against the wall opposite them.

"You were here the whole time?" Hermione accused him angrily. "Why would you file for custody, put us through the hell we've been through, and then not even bother to show up for the hearing?"

Blaise pushed himself away from the wall and closed the distance that separated him from the couple. He tipped his head to the side and looked at her condescendingly. "Oh, come now, Granger, surely you know."

Draco looked from Blaise to his wife, his eyebrows drawn closely together as he waited for one of them to let him in on the secret. "What is it you expect us to know?" he inquired.

"How your dear little wife went to your daddy for help," Blaise replied, a touch of innocence in his voice.

"I already knew that," Draco stated dismissively.

Blaise smirked. "Did you know that he offered me the key to one of the many Gringott's vaults that are in the Malfoy name?" he inquired. "Did you also know that he said if that wasn't enough, then perhaps he would let slip the cause of the mysterious death of my latest stepfather."

Gray eyes narrowed, first on Blaise and then the witch next to him. There was something of a Slytherin streak in Hermione, that much Draco was willing to acknowledge. He had expected his father would offer some kind of monetary reward to Blaise if he let them keep Gemma, but blackmail without having any real information seemed a bit underhanded even for Lucius.

"I didn't ask him to do that, I swear," Hermione told him, feeling affronted that he would still accuse her of such a thing.

Draco wrapped his arm around her waist and began to lead her towards the lifts. "It's over, Zabini. The Minister ruled in our favor. Gemma is ours." He led her into the lift, glad when Blaise produced no retort.

"I really didn't know that was what your father meant when he said he would help us," she said again. "The money I sort of expected, but blackmail?"

"It's not that blackmail that should surprise you, it's the information he thinks he can use to carry out the blackmail," Draco informed her. When he caught her confused expression, he continued, "Blaise's stepfathers are always older men, and they've all died of supposedly natural causes. No one has ever known whether or not that's true, except for his mother."

"So, Lucius has nothing," Hermione responded flatly. Draco simply nodded and led her out of the lift once they reached Harry's floor. They traversed the long corridor, passed by closed doors with names engraved into the wood, until they reached the end where Harry's office was located.

They entered to find Harry lying face down on the floor with Gemma triumphantly sitting on his back. The raven haired man looked up, sheepishly blushing at having been caught in such a position. "We were just playing," he said matter-of-factly. Draco lifted the little girl off of Harry's back, giving him the opportunity to stand back up. He made a production of smoothing his ever messy hair down before moving on to his robes.

When he was seated behind his desk, Harry looked from Hermione to Draco and back again. "Well?" he asked anxiously. "What happened?"

"Blaise never showed," Hermione informed him.

"So, she's-," Harry asked, pointing casually towards Gemma, who sat on her father's lap chatting away about her time with Harry.

"Yep," Hermione replied. Harry's smile was wide enough to rival at the moment. He had felt an affinity for the little girl from the beginning. They were both orphaned as infants, though it seemed to Harry that he had drawn the short straw in the adoptive parents department. He had hardly known Pansy, or Blaise for that matter, during their school years, but neither one had ever been described as warm and welcoming, or loving and affectionate.

Gemma looked up at Draco, finishing her monologue about her afternoon with her uncle. "What's Mummy talking about, Daddy?"

"Nothing, love," he told her with a smile. "Everything is just fine."


	17. Chapter 16

I think some people got the impression that the last chapter would be the end. Never fear, faithful readers! We're taking a little leap ahead in time until we reach the end. Enjoy!

**

* * *

Chapter 16**  
Hogwarts was a large and intimidating place to a small eleven year-old, but Gemma Malfoy was never one to let fear stand in her way. Around her, nervous children quietly discussed into which house they would be placed. Others wondered how they would ever manage to get to their classes on time without getting lost. But the eldest Malfoy child held her head high as the group of first years were led through the Great Hall for the Sorting ceremony. They were lined up parallel to the raised platform on which the teachers sat. When the hall was quiet, Neville Longbottom stepped forward with the Sorting Hat in hand. Gemma paid little attention as her fellow first years' names were called.

"Malfoy, Gemma," Neville called, smiling briefly at his friend's daughter. She took a deep breath, reminding herself to stay calm. She sat down on the stool, and before Neville placed the hat on her head, muttered, "So much like your mother."

Gemma smiled proudly when she heard his comment, and then heard the voice of the Hat in her ears.

"Ah, yes, the product of Slytherins," the voice mused. "You would do well in Slytherin, very well. Such a cunning and clever girl. But bright and loyal too. So, where to put you?" Then the voice got louder so everyone could hear. "Better be...GRYFFINDOR!"

She hopped off the stool as the Gryffindor table erupted in cheer and applause. A small frown crossed her lips as she took her seat. She expected the hat's decision to be Slytherin. After all, her birth parents were in that house, as well as her adoptive father. Her mother, though, was a tried and true Gryffindor who bled crimson and gold.

"You don't seem happy to be a mighty Gryffindor," said the boy beside her. The boy had a head of thick, dark hair that curled slightly at the ends. His eyes, like his hair, were dark brown, and he tended to frown. He had just been sorted into the house, and didn't look much happier than Gemma. She eyed him warily, wondering why he would talk to her. She merely shrugged in response, causing the boy to smile. "Good, I'm not either."

"I'm Gemma. Gemma Malfoy," she said politely, the frown lifting slightly.

"Lucas Flint, but everyone just calls me Flint," he told her. "My dad used to be Quidditch captain. I'll probably make the team too." Gemma rolled her eyes. Quidditch talk. Again. "Say, didn't your dad play too? Draco Malfoy right?"

Food appeared before them, and Gemma made it her mission to let it distract her. She helped herself to roasted potatoes and baked chicken. Taking a sip of pumpkin juice from the goblet before her, she washed down the first bite. "Yes, he's my father, but if you don't mind, I'd really rather not talk about Quidditch. Or my family."

Flint smirked; one his father would be proud of. "Not a big fan of the game?"

She shrugged, keeping her eyes fixed on the plate in front of her. "I have at least seven relatives who have played for their house teams, and two more who are currently on the Gryffindor team. I've watched them play when we get together for Sunday lunch. I listen to them talk about their glory days and which team will win the Cup this year. I have been asked on several occasions which position I'd like to play. But before I can tell them, my father and my Uncle Ron start arguing over whether I'd make a better Seeker or a better Keeper.

"So, to answer your question - no, I am not a fan," she concluded with a huff.

They finished their dinner in silence and were then led to Gryffindor tower. It was exactly as her mother had described - gold and crimson tapestries with embroidered lions, the fireplace with the tattered old sofa in front of it, the large windows that overlooked the grounds. To her left was a staircase that led to the girls' dormitory, and the boy's was on the right. Students from other years were assembled around the large common room, talking and playing games. She thought she even spotted some Weasley products, despite the fact that they were frowned upon by most of the faculty.

Many of the first years headed up to the dorms to unpack. Gemma hung back, spotting her cousin, Roxanne. She made her way over to the window seat where her cousin was seated with a book. "So, who was the boy you were talking to during dinner?" Roxanne inquired, never lowering her book.

"Some kid who's the son of Daddy's old Quidditch captain," Gemma muttered. "He's rather annoying, if you ask me. It makes me long for the days of living with my sisters."

"You mean yesterday," Roxanne quipped, finally setting aside her book. "He seems like a nice enough kid. Give him a chance. Perhaps you'll make a friend."

Gemma frowned. "Isn't that what I have you for?" she asked dumbfoundedly.

"I'm a third year. Even if I were your only friend here, who will you hang out with once I've graduated?" Roxanne flashed a smile to her cousin that was reminiscent of George's - mischievous and happy. "I'm going to bed. See you in the morning."

Gemma nodded. She wasn't alone for long as Flint took her cousin's recently vacated seat. "You know Weasleys?" he asked, his tone dripping with condescension. She glared at him, her brown eyes narrowing dangerously. It was a look she had learned from her mother, one that always scared her father. And it seemed to work with Flint, as he held up his hands in a sign of surrender. "Sorry. So, you've got sisters?"

"Two of them," she replied warily. He gestured for her to continue. "Demetria is five and Emilia is seven. My parents have a pretty cruel sense of humor - Gemmy, Emmy, and Demi." She rolled her eyes, eliciting a laugh from Flint.

They sat in silence; Flint staring at the fireplace and Gemma to the night sky. "Why do you think you're a Gryffindor?" she suddenly asked him. "Won't your Slytherin father disown you for this?"

Flint laughed again, turning to look at her. "My mum was a Hufflepuff. I guess Gryffindor is the middle ground. My dad's not a bad guy, not the way his father was. Apparently, the reason half of his home is still under construction to this day is because of the fight he got into with my father for daring to bring home a half-blood." Gemma's eyes widened at the gossip. "So, anyhow, I don't see him disowning me anytime soon. Someone's going to have to carry on the Flint name. What about you? Not writing to your folks for fear of losing your inheritance?"

Gemma shook her head, looking down at her lap. "No, nothing like that. Just a bit homesick right now, I guess."

Flint leaned back against the glass of the window and studied Gemma in the moonlight. She was a small girl with dark brown curls that hung halfway down her back and brown eyes that sparkled from the fire. Her knees were pulled up to her chest as she rested her chin on top of them. It seemed that the strong-willed girl from dinner was gone now that they were alone.

"So, I heard a rumor," he said, hoping to change the topic of family and home. She looked over at Flint waiting for him to continue. "The Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, the one they were supposed to announce at dinner who didn't show, I know who it is."

"Who?" Gemma asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"Blaise Zabini."


	18. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

The kitchen was loud when Draco entered for breakfast. The early morning sunlight streamed in through the windows and sliding glass door, casting a golden hue on the room. He kissed Hermione's cheek as she flipped pancakes, before filling a mug with coffee and taking a seat beside his youngest daughter.

"Demi, don't pull your sister's hair," he said, noticing the honey brown curls clenched in the five year-old's hand as Emilia winced, her brown eyes squinting from the pain. Demetria released her sister's hair with an audible sigh, and received a kick from Emmy under the table. "Emmy, don't kick your sister," he added, as he thumbed through the _Daily Prophet_.

Hermione set a large plate of pancakes on the table and sat next to her husband. "There's an article in there on the new Defense teacher at Hogwarts," she told him sourly. She angrily skewered two pancakes and dropped them down on a plate. She set about cutting them into smaller pieces before handing the plate to Demi. Then she did the same for Emilia.

With furrowed brows, Draco turned the pages until he found the article Hermione had mentioned. His face reddened as he read, and as he reached the end of the article, the lights in the kitchen began to flicker from his magic-induced ire.

"Uh-oh," Emmy whispered to her sister. "Daddy's getting mad. It's gonna be just like that time we hid the-," She stopped speaking when her mother raised her eyebrows in her direction.

"Hid the what?" Hermione demanded.

"Nothing," Demi said with a smile that showed her missing front tooth. Her gray eyes, so much like her father's, twinkled with delight at having pulled one over on her mother.

Hermione decided to let it go in favor of listening to Draco rant about the article. "Zabini? They choose Zabini?" he shouted. "Sure, he was good in the class when we were in school, but Zabini? Who would ever consider him worthy of teaching children? And my child at that!"

"Girls, why don't you go finish your breakfast in the sitting room," Hermione suggested. Quietly, they gathered their plates and utensils and made their way out of the kitchen. Hermione then turned to Draco and rested a comforting hand on his shoulder. It had been years since they had seen Zabini; seven, in fact. But the memories of the pain he had caused them were still fresh.

"What if he tells her?" Draco wondered, his voice softening with fear. "I mean, she knows she was adopted, but what if she finds out?"

Hermione shook her head helplessly. "I don't know, love."

Blaise smiled as his first group of first-years filed into the classroom, ready for their first day of classes. His eye caught the sight of a curly-haired brunette Gryffindor seated beside an equally dark haired boy. He knew her immediately to be Gemma Parkinson. She would never be a Malfoy in his eyes. He settled down the noisy students and magicked the textbooks to be distributed.

"Welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts, First Years," he greeted them when the classroom was completely silent. "I'm Professor Zabini, and as many of you know, I am the Head of House for Slytherin. In this class, you will learn to defend yourselves against dark magic. Today, we will begin with protection spells." He surveyed the class for a volunteer. He summoned Gemma to the front of the room, choking as he called her Miss Malfoy.

Gemma smiled pleasantly at her teacher as she stood beside him at the front of the classroom. Like her mother, she was an excellent student, intent on being the best in her year. Blaise demonstrated the wrist movement required to perfect the spell, which Gemma copied flawlessly.

"Very good," he praised. "Now, on my command, one, two, three, _protego_." Gemma did as she was told, and felt the bubble of protection surround her. When the spell faded, Blaise patted her on the back and sent her back to her seat. "Very well done, Miss Malfoy. Who's next?"

When the hour was up, the first years noisily packed their belongings and filed out of the classroom. Blaise watched as Gemma carefully arranged her books in her bag, taking time to make sure nothing wrinkled or creased. Beside her stood an impatient Lucas Flint, whose sighs increased the slower Gemma purposefully went.

Blaise was by no means a fan of this boy. He hadn't cared much for Marcus Flint, but he could overlook that. What he really disliked about this boy was the way he looked at Gemma, the way he touched her, the way he offered to carry her books to their next class. She was, after all, Blaise's daughter, whether she knew it or not. With her parents not around, he intended to make the little girl's true parentage known.

"We could speak with Professor McGonagall," Hermione suggested, though she knew she was grasping at straws. "Perhaps she could convince him not to tell her."

Draco shook his head, not liking that idea. "She can't stop him. No one really can." He sighed, leaning back into the couch cushions. He remembered how blasé the Italian had seemed following their hearing, the one at which he never bothered to appear. He had given them a line about being bought off by Draco's father, which they all suspected to be true. Draco had never expected him to take such an underhanded route at getting Gemma back.

"Is it at all possible that he really _just _took the job just to have a job?" Hermione wondered. "Maybe we're getting ourselves crazy over nothing."

Draco quickly dismissed that thought. "If I know Blaise, he _only _took the job to get closer to Gem. Honestly, with his money, why would he need to work?"

Before Hermione could reply, they were interrupted as their daughters ran up to them, each complaining about the other one.

"Daddy, Demi bit me," Emilia told him, holding onto her arm as if it might fall off.

"But, Mummy, Emmy stole my doll," Demi said defensively.

The two girls began to shout over one another until Draco let out a piercing whistle to silence them. "Enough," he said sternly. "We do not steal from one another. We do not hurt one another. We do not shout at one another. Emilia, give your sister her doll back. Demetria, apologize to Emmy for biting her. Hermione, could you get some antiseptic for Emmy's arm?"

Hermione popped off the couch, and with a mock salute, left the room. She returned moments later to examine her daughter's wound. "I don't see anything," Hermione stated, holding Emmy's arm. Draco leaned over to get a better look, and agreed with his wife's assessment. "You're fine. Go play nicely."

"How is it possible that this house is noisier with two girls than with three?" Draco wondered as the children made their way back to their room.

Hermione leaned into his side and smiled as he wound an arm around her shoulders. "Gemmy was always much quieter than those two," she reminded him. "Gosh, it's weird not having her at home."

He produced a small sound of agreement as he listened to the sounds of running feet overhead. "Just think, when Gemma's in her seventh year, Demi will just be starting Hogwarts. We'll have an empty house. We've never had that together."

She thought back over the decade they had spent together. Gemma had always been their common link, their only purpose for ever being together. She looked at the man beside her wondering if they would currently be curled up on the couch together if it hadn't been for Pansy's little girl. A sad smile crossed her lips at that thought.

"Did I say something wrong?" he asked, interrupting her thoughts.

Hermione shook her head to dispel that notion. "No, just thinking about Pansy," she said softly. "She's really entirely to blame for us being together," she added with a touch of humor.

"I miss her, but I thank my lucky stars daily that she gave us Gemmy," Draco told her, kissing her lips softly. "If only we didn't have to worry about Blaise again," he said ruefully.

And they both had that sinking feeling that they would once again have to face that part of their past.


	19. Chapter 18

******Chapter 18**  
The first month of the school year was over, and already Gemma was exceeding the expectations of the Hogwarts teaching staff. Few of the professors from her parents' day were still on staff, but those who knew Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy couldn't help but make comparisons to two of the brightest students they had taught. Most knew that she was not, in fact, the true progeny of the witch and wizard, but their intelligence had clearly rubbed off on the little witch.

Like Hermione, Gemma sought solace in the school library. She spent many nights tucked away in a back corner away from the noise of her classmates. Much to Draco's dismay, she had no interest in the Quidditch team, choosing to do her schoolwork while the rest of the school gathered at the pitch for the first game of the season. Flint would tell her about the game (ad nauseam, might she add) afterwards. He always returned to the common room after watching the Gryffindor team practice, red-faced and his hair a mess from the wind. But his smile was never bigger.

Lucas Flint was one of the few people she palled around with, aside from her older cousins. Theodore Nott, Jr., a Slytherin first year, was someone with whom she had grown up. Their fathers had remained close following their school days, and often times they were each other's only company when the families got together. He was almost as adept a student as she was, and for that she admired him. He was a handsome boy, two months older than her, and was built similarly to his father - tall, lanky, with brown hair that hung into his dark blue eyes. The girls in their year teased Gemma for befriending the two boys, but Gemma dismissed them as silly twits with nothing better to do. After all, her mother had spent her Hogwarts years with her Uncles Harry and Ron.

"Miss Malfoy, a word please."

Gemma looked up from her Potions textbook to see Professor Zabini standing at the other side of the table. She offered him a small smile and closed the book. "How are you today, Professor?" she asked when he sat across from her.

"Very well," Blaise told her. They sat silently as Gemma waited for him to tell her what it was he wanted.

"Is everything okay, Professor?" she asked, her nerves suddenly causing her heart to beat a little bit faster. "My grades are fine, right?"

Blaise chuckled. "Quite like your mother, you are," he mused. "No, not to worry. You're grades are impeccable. I've no other student quite as dedicated to her studies as you are." Gemma released a sigh of relief. "I wanted to ask if you remembered me."

"Remembered you for what?" she wondered, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

"Not 'for', _from_," he corrected her. "I used to be good friends with your father. I remember visiting with you often when you were a little girl."

Gemma tried to recall having met him, but came up short of memories. The name had been thrown about, mostly in hushed tones by her parents when they thought she wasn't listening to them. "No, I'm sorry," she finally told him.

"Hey, Gems, I need help with my Transfiguration homework," Theodore said. He was flipping through chunks of pages until he found the one he needed. Then he looked up, startled to see his friend sitting with their Defense teacher. "Oh, sorry, Professor. I didn't see you there. I'll catch up with you later, Gem."

Blaise rose from the table. "It's fine, Nott. I'll let you two get back to your studies." He smiled once more at Gemma before leaving.

"That was weird," Gemma muttered once Theodore took Blaise's empty seat. She filled him in on the conversation she had just had with their teacher. "What do you think that was about?" she asked when she finished.

Theodore shrugged. "No idea. Do you really not remember when he'd come to your house?" Gemma shook her head. "Maybe you should talk to your parents."

"Yeah, maybe," she mumbled. She didn't want to discuss it any further. "So, what's the trouble with your Transfiguration work?"

"Mummy, we got a letter from Gemmy," Demi declared happily as a Hogwarts owl dropped a letter on their kitchen table. "May I read it?"

Hermione had just entered the kitchen as Draco started on dinner. She shook her head and held out a hand for her daughter to put the letter in. Pulling open the envelope, she crossed over to Draco to allow him to read it as well.

"She seems to be enjoying school," Draco mused as he read through the letter. Hermione let a small moue of agreement slip past her lips as her eyes remained trained on their daughter's correspondence. They seemed to reach the paragraph about her library run-in with Blaise at the same time. "That's it. I'm going to Hogwarts to give that bastard a piece of my mind."

"Language, Daddy," Demi admonished.

"Sorry sweetheart," he mumbled. He took the letter from his wife's hands and reread it. "We could pull her out of school."

Hermione adamantly declared that to be a bad idea. "Perhaps talking to Blaise rationally might work in our favor, rather than beating him to a bloody pulp or taking Gemma out of school."

"Yes, but I'd rather beat him to a bloody pulp," Draco replied petulantly.

Demi walked over to them and tugged on Draco's pant leg. "Daddy, is Gemmy coming home?" she asked. Draco sighed and looked to Hermione before shaking his head. "Daddy, your pot is bubbling over."

His head snapped from his youngest daughter to the stove. He reached out for the handle and burned his hand. "Damn it!" he shouted, dropping the hot pot in the sink.

"Language, Daddy," she admonished for a second time.

"Sorry sweetheart," he mumbled once more. He held out his injured hand and watched as Hermione passed her wand over the reddened skin. It was healed instantaneously, and Draco sighed as the pain dissipated. "Dem, could you get your sister? It looks like we'll be dining out tonight."

The littlest Malfoy squealed with delight and ran out of the kitchen. "He was trying to tell her that he's her real father," Hermione groaned when the little girl was out of the room, leaning her head against Draco's chest.

"We won't let that happen," Draco affirmed, winding his arms around her. "Perhaps it's time we finally tell her the truth."**  
**


	20. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**  
There were many up-sides to being a favorite student of Headmistress McGonagall. After the war, Hermione had elected to finish her Hogwarts education and had even secured an apprenticeship under her Transfiguration professor. She had remained close to the elder witch as the years passed, and now she planned to use her connections to their benefit.

She and Draco were seated in the Headmistress's office. Portraits of past Heads of Hogwarts lined the walls, most watching the couple intently. Gone were the trinkets and gadgets that had filled the office when Dumbledore was in charge. Instead, bookshelves lined the free walls. The desk was neatly organized, as was the work table off to the right.

Draco shifted uncomfortably in the chair beside her. "Stop fidgeting," she chastised when she finally threw a glance his way.

"Dumbledore is staring at me," he told her uneasily. He spoke softly and through clenched teeth for fear of his former Headmaster overhearing.

"Oh for heaven's sake, Draco," she replied with a roll of her eyes. "I'm sure he doesn't hold you responsible."

Draco looked down at his shoes. There was still a lingering guilt for many of his actions as a young boy. It was hard to just wake up in the morning and forget that you were almost forced to murder someone. He still dreamed about it - dressed in black, standing in the Astronomy Tower, wand pointed, the words for the curse choking him. Draco shuddered as he attempted to clear his mind of the vision.

Hermione rested her hand on his left forearm, the place where the Dark Mark was still branded into the pale skin. "Hey, he doesn't blame you," she said carefully. "And neither do I."

He shot her a grateful smile as McGonagall entered. Following the greetings and salutations, the headmistress got down to business. "So, what brings the two of you to Hogwarts today?"

Hermione pulled in a deep, steadying breath. "We'd like to speak with you about Blaise Zabini."

Elsewhere in the castle, Blaise strolled casually through the halls before reaching his classroom. He had set up a tutoring session with Gemma after she complained that she couldn't quite grasp the concept of the latest defensive spell they had learned. She was already seated at her usual desk when he entered. They briefly exchanged pleasantries before getting to work. They worked on the disarming spell, practicing inflection and wrist movements for an hour before Gemma got it right.

"You shouldn't be so hard on yourself about your studies, you know," Blaise commented when the lesson was finished. "You're quite an adept student."

"I know, I know. Just like my mother," the little girl grumbled. She looked up to see the humorous look that settled upon her teacher's face. "I'm just a bit tired of being compared to my mum, that's all."

Blaise nodded and turned towards his desk. He rummaged briefly through the top drawer, producing an "a ha!" when he found it. "I want you to have this," he said, handing her a picture of Pansy Parkinson. "I trust that your parents have mentioned her to you before."

"Umm, yeah, I keep a picture of her in my trunk. They told me about her when I was little," Gemma replied though her attentions were solely focused on the picture. It was a photo of Pansy and Blaise in what she presumed to be Italy. The sun was setting on the Tuscan rooftops, and her real mother smiled brightly at the camera. The frame only showed their faces as they squeezed together for Blaise to snap the picture. "When was this taken?" she asked.

Blaise moved around to stand behind her. "Let's see," he thought about it, "I believe that was the summer we turned 21."

Gemma's eyes widened with this new information. Mentally, she calculated how old her mother must have been when she had her. "The other day in the library, you mentioned that you used to come to my house often. Why did you stop? Weren't you and my father friends?" She needed to be sure that her suspicions were correct. If Blaise had been with Pansy within the year she was born, he could be her father.

Blaise sighed and took a seat on a nearby desk. "Your parents asked me to stop coming," he said sadly. "By that time, they were married and expected your sister, and I guess they thought I was a bad influence."

"Were you?" she asked, one eyebrow quirking upwards.

He laughed a hearty laugh. "Probably," he admitted with a smile. He watched as her shoulders fell from their usually perfect posture. "What's the matter?"

"I can't...I was wondering if...I did the math," she stuttered. Taking a deep breath she tried again. "Professor, my parents told me a long time ago that I was adopted. I've known for a long time who my mother was, but they refused to tell me about my father. I need to know...are you him?"

"I understand your position, but I'm not sure there's anything I can do," the headmistress informed them.

"It's not like we're asking that you sack him," Draco argued. "We'd just like you to say something about not saying anything to our daughter. He has ample opportunity to tell her, and we'd like for that not to happen."

Hermione nodded in agreement. "Would it be possible for us to speak with her? We'd really rather she hears this news from us than someone who's been a stranger to her."

McGonagall considered this request for a moment. It was unusual to have parents on the castle grounds unless in the event of an emergency. She trusted her staff to use discretion when it came to the well-being of the students. While a part of her hoped Blaise would not reveal Gemma's paternity, she knew Slytherins, new and old, to be less than trustworthy if they felt they had something to gain.

"Alright," she finally conceded. "I'm sure she'll be in her house common room. I trust you remember the way, Hermione?"

Hermione nodded. They were given the password and dismissed. Quietly, they moved through the castle, passing students laden down with textbooks or Quidditch gear. Hermione stopped by the second floor stairs, waiting for the changing staircase to move where she needed it to go. When it shifted, she and Draco took the stairs to the third floor landing and continued on towards the Gryffindor dormitory. The sounds of their footsteps were the only noise they heard until they rounded the corner.

There, outside of the portrait of the Fat Lady, sat Gemma. She was seated on the floor with her knees tucked close to her chest. Her arms hugged her legs as she rested her head against her knees and sobbed.

Draco broke away from Hermione and ran to his daughter's side. His voice was panicked as he attempted to get her to speak to him. When she finally did, he was not a fan of what she had to say.

"How could you?" she shouted. Her head turned frantically to look between her mother and father, eyes rimmed red and puffy. "You spent years making sure I never forgot my mother. Pictures and trinkets and absolute rubbish. But my father, how could you never tell me? I have to find out from my teacher that he's my father?"

Hermione took a seat on her other side while Draco swore under his breath. He tried to rest a comforting hand on her shoulder, but Gemma pushed it away. She turned to her mother for an explanation. "Why didn't you tell me?" she asked again, her voice cracking from a fresh wave of sobs.

"It was easier telling you about Pansy. She couldn't come back and take you away," Hermione spoke softly, carefully choosing her words. "I don't think you remember this, but when we first told you about her it was mostly because Blaise was trying to gain custody of you. By that time, we'd already been your parents for about four years. It was hard to even think of letting you go."

Next she turned to Draco. "But I thought the two of you were friends," she pressed.

He smoothed away tear-dampened curls that clung to her cheek. "We were when we were younger. I spent a lot of my school days with him," he confirmed. "But you have to understand that following the war, it became a bit harder to keep in contact with some people. Especially people who didn't fight alongside you. Blaise spent much of what should have been our seventh year in Italy to avoid being dragged into the fight. I didn't see him again until just after we adopted you."

"And then he tried to take me away from you," Gemma said, receiving nods from her parents. "And that's why you told him not to come by the house anymore."

"We were doing what we thought was right," Draco replied. "Blaise and I had very similar upbringings. Huge manors, parents who barely paid you any attention, raised by house elves and nannies. Your mum and I didn't want that for you. We wanted you to live in a house with a family who would love you and give you the attention you needed."

"And you think he wouldn't have given me that kind of life?" she demanded.

"Your mother left you with us for a reason, Gemma," Draco countered, feeling his patience begin to wane. "Clearly, she knew something about Blaise that kept her from turning you over to him."

"Enough of this," Hermione hissed before a screaming match broke out between the pair. She rose to her feet and looked down on them. "We won't yell and carry on like this in public. Gemma, we're sorry this is how you had to find out. Believe me, it wasn't how we planned to have it happen. Draco, cut your daughter some slack. She's just found out some life-changing information, and we can't all just shut off our emotions the way you can." Having said her piece, she turned on her heel and headed back towards the staircase.

Gemma glared at her father, as if to say "see what you've done now." She stood up and clearly spoke her house password. The Fat Lady swung open, granting her entry, while Draco stood in the hall alone.


	21. Chapter 20

******Chapter 20  
**There was an incessant knock on the bedroom door, but Hermione refused to unlock it in case Draco stood on the other side. She rolled onto her stomach and buried her head in the pillow. It smelled like Draco. With a frustrated groan, she tossed the pillow across the room. They had arrived home from Hogwarts hours earlier, and Hermione immediately locked herself in their bedroom.

The knock came again, this time followed by a pleading little voice. "Mummy? May I come in?" It was Demi.

"Please, Mummy?" This time it was Emmy. With a wave of her wand, the door unlocked and the two little girls entered. They joined her on the bed, cuddling into either side of their mother. Hermione softly fingered Demi's soft brown curls as they lay silently.

"Mummy, where did Daddy go?" Demi wondered.

Hermione's eyes widened. She tried not to let her expression bely her shock, but found it to be a difficult task.

"He said he was going for a walk," Emmy told her in a stoic tone reminiscent of her own. "But it's dark now, and he still isn't back. Is he mad about something?"

Hermione sighed. He was mad, and she knew exactly the reason. Part of the reason most likely had to do with her walking away from him and Apparating home alone. "It's nothing you have to worry about," she told them. "Did Mum Mum feed you dinner?"

"Gnome stew," Demi told her excitedly.

Hermione wrinkled her brow. "She fed you gnomes?"

Emmy rolled her eyes. "Gigi told us it was gnomes, but Pop Pop said it was just chicken," she explained. 

"Okay, good, then please put on your pajamas. I'll be in in a minute to tuck you in," Hermione instructed.

The older girl climbed off the bed, but Demi lingered. "Can't I sleep in your bed tonight?" she asked, flashing her big gray eyes that reminded Hermione of Draco's. Hermione shook her head and picked the little girl up, carrying her to her room. "But, Mummy, I want to see Daddy when he gets home," she complained as Hermione began to dress her for bed.

"I'll send him in to see you when he gets back," Hermione replied, feeling her patience fade. When Demi was in her pajamas, Hermione sent her to the bathroom to brush her teeth. Emmy returned just as Demi left the room. She climbed into her bed and waited for her mother's attention.

"He _is_ coming back, right?" she asked, as Hermione pulled the covers around her. Her voice was soft and small, none of the usual strength she possessed in it.

Hermione smiled softly. "Of course he is. You know Daddy could never bear to be away from you and your sister."

"But what if he leaves like Gemmy's real Mum and Dad?" Emmy wondered, her small mouth bending downwards.

"How do you know about that?" Hermione inquired, hands on her hips as she glared at her.

Emmy rolled onto her side and pulled a small box out from underneath her bed. She handed the box to Hermione who immediately opened it to flip through its contents. Inside were pictures that Gemma had been given of Pansy and a letter she had written to her only child.

"Where did you get these?" Hermione demanded, closing the lid.

"Gem said she didn't want to take them to school with her, so she asked me to hold onto them for her," Emmy replied. "Are you mad?"

Hermione shook her head and placed the box back under the bed. "No, I think it's nice that Gemma trusted you with her things. Now sleep, my love." She placed a kiss on Emmy's forehead and moved over to give Demi the same treatment. Turning off the light, she headed downstairs. Her book was still on the coffee table, and she decided to read until Draco walked in through the door. Instead, she fell asleep, the book falling to the floor discarded.

It was well past midnight when Draco came home, a bottle of the best firewhiskey in his hand, half drunk. In his inebriated state, he wondered why the living room lights were still on. He wandered in, planning only to extinguish the lights and the fire that still burned in the hearth, when he spotted his wife peacefully sleeping on the sofa. Carefully, he shook her shoulder to wake her.

"Hey," he whispered when her eyes fluttered open.

"Hi," she replied sleepily, waiting for her eyes to adjust. Then she slapped him.

Draco cradled his cheek, his mouth open from the shock and pain of it. "What the hell was that for?"

"You left," she hissed. She sniffed at the air around them and added, "And you're drunk. I didn't even know you were gone until the girls told me. Emmy asked me if you were ever coming back. Do you know how hard a question that was to answer? I didn't know if you were coming home or if you were even okay."

He pulled his hand away from his cheek to reveal a very red handprint marring the skin. He looked down shamefully.

"Are you going to say something to me?" she demanded, getting angrier with each second of silence that passed between them.

"I hate when you hit me," he responded through clenched teeth. "I hated it third year and I hate it now."

With an exasperated sigh, Hermione pushed her way past him and climbed the stairs, her feet stomping angrily as she made her way up. He followed behind at a safe distance, unaware that she was unarmed. Before she could slam and lock the door, he caught it as it came closer. Stepping into their bedroom, he watched as she tore back the blankets and undressed. Then, when she was in her pajamas, she sat down on her side of the bed and let her face fall into her hands. When her shoulders started to shake, Draco could think of nothing but comforting her.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. His arm wound around her shoulders as he pulled her willing form into his side. She fisted his shirt, knotting it in her hand.

"We're going to lose her," she sobbed, her tears soaking through the thin fabric of his shirt.

Blaise ambled into the Great Hall noticing only Gemma seated at the Gryffindor table. He took a seat beside her and smiled kindly at her.

"You missed my parents yesterday," she said without looking away from her Charms text. "Honestly, I'm a bit surprised you aren't more bruised right now."

Her professor chuckled mirthlessly. He knew he was lucky to have avoided Draco the day before. Having been on the receiving end of Draco's hexes before, he knew it was a place he never wanted to be again. Instead of ruminating on thoughts of his former friend, he decided to change the subject.

"You know you look a lot like your mother," he told her, his words and tone sincere.

"I don't see it," she mumbled, lifting her goblet of pumpkin juice to her lips. When she set it back down she finally turned to look at him. "In fact, I rather think I look more like my father."

A proud smile lit his face. There were certain similairites between him and the little Gryffindor. She had his curly hair, his dark eyes, the soft glow of olive-hued skin. Even her personality bore some likeness to his own. She was stubborn, and despite having been raised by Granger, there was a haughtiness to the way she spoke sometimes.

"Hmm, yes I do see it too," he agreed. "But you have Pansy's smile and her laugh. She had a very sweet laugh."

Gemma closed her book and set it down beside her. "It seems unfair that you all got to know her and I didn't," she confided sadly. "Why didn't she leave me with you before she died?"

Blaise replied with a small shrug. "This isn't quite the time for this conversation," he told her, gesturing with his chin to the students who began to file in for breakfast.

She nodded her understanding and reopened her book. "Professor?" he asked before he walked too far away. He turned to direct his attention to her once more. "I know the holidays are still a bit far off, but could I stay with you instead of going home?"

He sighed, feeling uneasy about her request. "If your parents agree to it, then yes. But their decision comes first and is final."

****


	22. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

The Burrow was more subdued as the school-aged children had not been present. Hermione watched from the kitchen window as Emmy and Al, Harry and Ginny's youngest son, played a game of tag. Under the apple tree, Demi sat with Lily, their youngest child, playing with rag dolls that Molly had sewn for them.

"So, I've been informed that my favorite niece doesn't intend to come home for Christmas," George said, startling the witch.

"You had better not let your seven other nieces hear you say that," she chided, moving over to the kitchen table. George followed, pulling out her chair for her. She smiled gratefully and sat down, watching as he took the seat across from her.

"Could be eight soon. Fred and Katie are expecting again," he told her proudly. The smile he wore began to fade as his real reason for talking to her sprang up again. "So, what's going on with Gemma?"

"She found out," was the only reply Hermione could muster. George's eyebrows rose as if permitting her to continue. And so she did. She told him about the confrontation at Hogwarts, the letters Gemma had sent begging to be allowed out of the family Christmas celebration, the ones detailing the talks she had with Blaise.

"And Draco's fine with letting her go with Blaise?" the redhead asked incredulously. Hermione shrugged. "Are you fine with it?"

"Of course not," Hermione said adamantly. She sighed and leaned back in her chair. "She feels slighted that we never told her. And maybe we should have told her sooner, but I wasn't expecting her Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher to be her father. I thought, all those years ago when we went through this mess the first time, that this whole thing with Blaise was over. I mean, seven years. Why wait seven years to weasel his way back into our lives?"

George looked thoughtful, mulling over the possibilities for Blaise's newest attack plan. "Maybe with Lucius gone he figures there's no one to keep him away. Or maybe he figures that Gemma's old enough to decide which parent she prefers."

A frown marred her soft features. It hadn't occurred to her that Draco's father's death could reawaken Blaise's desire to gain custody of Gemma. After all, it was Lucius who instituted the bribe and the threat of blackmail. With him out of the picture, there was nothing holding Blaise back.

"Do you think we should have told her no when she asked?" Hermione asked, her voice meek.

George stretched out a hand to cover hers, and he smiled kindly at the witch who was like a second sister to him. "I'm not sure I can answer that for you. But look at it this way - maybe her eyes will be opened to what the real Blaise Zabini is like. She might come running back to you with open arms, begging you to never let her see him again."

"Fingers crossed," Hermione muttered.

"What the hell is a Marauder's Map?" Flint asked, examining the parchment that Gemma held open before her, Flint, and Theodore.

She smiled wickedly at the boys. "It was my uncle's," she told them. "I found it in his desk drawer once, and thought it could be to my benefit. My cousins know nothing of this, though, so no telling. Freddie will have my head if he finds out that it could have been his this whole time."

"So we're going to use this to sneak into Hogsmeade?" Theodore asked uncertainly. His tone belied his doubts that her plan would actually work. "We're first years, we're not supposed to be in the Village unsupervised."

Flint laughed as worry lines etched into Nott's fine features. "What kind of Slytherin are you?" he teased, mussing up his hair.

"The kind whose father will kill him when he and his two best friends are expelled from school for sneaking out," he retorted, smoothing his hair back into place. "And I'd fear your parents, as well, Gem. We all know your mother's love of all things school related."

Gemma flashed a mischievous smile at her two best friends. "Don't worry, I don't plan on getting caught." She opened up the map to decide on the best route out of the school.

"Besides," Flint added, "her real father is a teacher here. He'll have her back." Gemma nodded confidently in agreement. She could do no wrong so long as Blaise was on her side.

Theodore snorted. "We don't all have that luxury," he mumbled.

"Then don't come," Gemma decided impatiently. "Flint and I will go on our own. It'll probably be more fun without you, anyhow."

He took her arm and pulled her away from Flint's side. "You and I need to talk in private," he informed her. They walked in silence until they reached an empty classroom. He took the map from her hands to afford her no distractions. "What's going on with you? The Gemma Malfoy I grew up with didn't have this reckless streak in her. The Gemma I knew would never do anything that might jeopardize her education or anger her parents."

Gemma scoffed. "Right, parents," she grumbled. "Parents don't lie and hide things from their children. The Malfoys are not my parents."

"Don't you see how much they love you? How much they care about you?" Blue eyes gazed sorrowfully at her, but Gemma refused to meet them. Theodore had always had that effect on her. One look from him had her feeling more guilty than her pride would allow.

She swallowed back her guilt and glared at him. "When did you become such a Hufflepuff?" she retorted. Picking up the Marauder's Map once more, she left the room to find Flint.

"He's going to report us to McGonagall now," Flint told her when she caught up to him near the One-eyed Witch passageway.

"I don't care," she muttered, slipping into the small alcove that led to freedom.

Theodore watched from nearby as his friends disappeared. It wasn't in his nature to betray Gemma, but he still made his way to Blaise's classroom to inform him of her defiance of school rules.

Hours later, when Gemma and Flint slipped back into school, Blaise and Theodore were waiting. Their laughter ceased and the smiles melted away.

"Did you two have fun?" Blaise asked, without a hint of emotion in his mellow voice. When neither child responded, Blaise continued, "Gemma, I'd like to speak with you alone. Come along."

She glared at Theodore, who refused to look apologetic, and followed behind Blaise. They walked in silence until they reached his office. He closed the door behind her and took a seat at his desk.

"Are you going to turn me in?" she asked before he could address her.

"I'll have to tell your parents, but I don't plan on turning you in to McGonagall," he assured her. "Expulsion will probably be her only course of action."

"But _you're_ my parent," she replied dubiously.

Blaise shook his head. "For all intents and purposes, Draco and Hermione Malfoy are your parents," he stated. She opened her mouth to agrue, but he held up a silencing hand. "I realize this is a difficult situation that you find yourself in, but sneaking out and not being in bed by curfew and showing up late to classes isn't going to make things better. Nott's concerned with this behavior, and to be honest with you, so am I."

"Please don't tell my parents," she said softly. "They'll never let me spend the holiday break with you. I just...I really can't go home, not to people who've lied to me for twelve years."

Blaise laughed mirthlessly. "You really should have been a Slytherin," he chided. "The next time I hear you've stepped out of line, I _will _tell them."

Gemma nodded. "Won't happen again."


	23. Chapter 22

Wow, have I gotten an excellent response on this story! I'm wondering if I've gone a little over the top with Gemma's general disdain toward the whole situation, but I can promise you all this - this chapter will be a turning point! Also, I've started working on a new story, which hasn't been posted yet. Without giving too much away, it'll be a love triangle plot. Won't say yet who's in the triangle. Maybe some guesses?

**

* * *

Chapter 22**  
Zabini Manor was a large, imposing estate. The grounds were covered with greenery and statuesque fountains. It reminded Gemma of Malfoy Manor as they neared the front entrance. Where the Malfoy estate was dark blacks, the Zabini mansion was done is grays and whites, making it look just slightly less intimidating to the young girl. Nonetheless, her heart pounded wildly at the thought of spending a week away from her family.

"So, Smokey will show you to your room. You can unpack there. Dinner will begin at six o'clock sharp," Blaise informed her. "My mother shan't be joining us. She's on her honeymoon, again. It'll just be the two of us this year."

Gemma frowned sadly. "You were going to be all alone for Christmas?" she asked, feeling sorry for him.

Blaise shrugged, glad for her sympathy. It was just the smallest step towards working his way into her affections, but an important step. "I could have stayed at the castle," he told her, trying to sound unaffected by the prospect. He did a good job of still making himself look sad despite his tone of voice. "Run along and get settled. I have some papers to grade to pass the time."

Gemma allowed a hesitant smile to settle on her lips. "Okay," she replied, adjusting the strap of her bookbag. "I expect an O on mine though," she added for a laugh.

Dinner passed by with relative ease. A steady flow of conversation accompanied the many courses they sat through. She was used to loud, cramped family get togethers at the Burrow on Christmas Eve. There was always a broken dish or an elbow in her ribs. Her uncles Fred and George always made something explode until Mrs. Weasley kicked them out. She laughed to herself remembering the time they had been sent to their childhood bedroom for blowing up the pudding. Idly, she wondered what mischief they would cause this year.

"So," Blaise said as the last of the serving trays were cleared from the table, "what are your Christmases usually like?"

Brown eyes lit up with excitement. "Christmas mornings, we sit around the Christmas tree and open our gifts. Dad takes his job as present distributor very seriously. Mum makes him wear a funny red hat and calls him Santa Claus. Emmy and Demi fight over who got the most gifts. Mum pretends to sleep late when they try to rouse her out of bed. Then she and Dad make a big breakfast for us. Pancakes, sticky buns, bacon. After breakfast, we go to Dad's family home to see Grandma. She's been really lonely in that big old house since Grandpa died."

Blaise nodded. He had heard that Lucius Malfoy passed away just over a year prior. His death had been the catalyst for seeking out Gemma once again. "It sounds nice," he commented. "And you spend Christmas Eve with the Weasleys?"

Gemma nodded. A small pang of desire pooled in her stomach as she wondered what her family was doing at that exact moment. "They're probably opening gifts right now. Mum Mum always gets teary-eyed when all the kids wear their sweaters." The words tumbled out before she even realized it, and a blush stained her cheeks.

"You must be missing them. It has been months since you've seen your family," Blaise responded, picking up a cookie from the tray Smokey placed between them.

"I don't miss the noise," she said thoughtfully. "I'm sure I won't miss my sisters waking me up at dawn by jumping on my bed."

Blaise chuckled, selecting another cookie. "You could go back home tomorrow morning, spend the day with your parents and sisters," he offered, feeling rather magnanimous about his suggestion.

The little brunette shook her head defiantly. "No, I'm spending the holiday with my father. I'm sure most of the family won't even notice I'm not there."

The morning sun had just barely risen above the horizon when two little girls made it their task to awaken their parents. Demi took Draco while Emmy rounded the bed to stand by her mother's side. Demi climbed onto the bed and sat on her father's stomach. Emmy's approach was a more subtle shaking while whispering "Mum" over and over until Hermione's eyes opened.

"Daddy, it's Christmas! Time for presents!" Demi said, bouncing just hard enough to startle him awake.

Though he had been awake for the past hour, Draco pretended to still be asleep. His arms inconspicuously wound around the little girl before he tackled her to his side, tickling her as he went. "Now, how many times do I have to tell you it isn't nice to wake up Daddy? How will I ever get my beauty sleep with you around?" he inquired, laughing as her bubbly giggles filled the room.

On the other side of the bed, Hermione pulled Emmy up beside her. The pair was much quieter than Draco and Demi, but they laughed along at their antics. Draco rolled over, taking Demi with him, and faced Hermione with a bright smile.

"Happy Christmas," he said, kissing her chastely to a rousing chorus of retching sounds from his daughters. Hermione replied in kind and snuggled closer to his side. "What do you say we just stay in bed all day long? Skip the presents and the big breakfast."

"And your mum's?" Hermione inquired, piquing an eyebrow. "She'd kill you."

Draco shrugged one shoulder. "Okay, fine, so we get out of bed to go to dinner," he amended his perfect plan.

"But I want presents, Daddy," Demi pouted.

With an eye roll, he climbed out of bed and slipped on his robe. "Well, what the princess wants," he said. "Everyone, out of bed and in the living room. You've got five minutes, little misses, or those gifts become mine." The girls ran out of the master bedroom, leaving Hermione and Draco alone. "Not getting out of bed today?"

Hermione moved onto her stomach and placed his pillow over her head. Draco slid into bed beside her and pulled it up just enough to see the mess of curls that fell onto her left cheek. "It's not the same without her," she murmured.

Draco laid down beside her, his face mere inches from her own. "I miss her too," he replied, smoothing back her hair. "But we have two little ones downstairs who expect a happy day."

"I know," she muttered with a small huff. "It's just wrong, Gemma not being here. What if she decides she likes Blaise better?"

Draco laughed a small chuckle. "Of course she'll like him better," he replied. "He's never grounded her, or set a bedtime, or told her she couldn't eat pumpkin pasties for dinner. Being around Blaise is still a novelty for her. The shininess will soon wear off. Now will you get out of bed and come downstairs before the terrible two come back?"

Gemma awoke early on Christmas morning. The manor was quiet as she padded barefoot through the hallways until she found the staircase. She had noticed upon arrival that Blaise hadn't taken the trouble to decorate for the holidays, and Gemma briefly hoped that he would at least have a tree set up for the day. Smokey, the head house elf, greeted her nervously when she reached the foyer.

"Master Blaise is still sleeping," he informed her, his voice squeaking on occasion. "Can Smokey get Miss something for breakfast?"

"Can I eat in my room?" she asked, suddenly wishing she had worn shoes as her toes grew colder on the marble floor. When Smokey nodded, she turned on her heel and went back to her room. Fifteen minutes later, the elf appeared with a tray of waffles, scrambled eggs, bacon, and fresh fruit. He set it down on the small table and disappeared. She picked disapprovingly at the fruit, ignoring the hotter items. This was not the Christmas morning she hoped it would be.


	24. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23  
**The Hogwarts Express pulled into the school station. Gemma had ridden alone, not seeing Flint or Theodore until she arrived at the castle. Her mood was sour as she made her way to the Gryffindor dormitories. The holiday had not gone as she expected. Most of her time at Zabini Manor had been spent in the suite he had designated for her. The only time Gemma saw him was when they ate dinner together, mostly in silence.

"Theodore is outside. He's looking for you," Roxanne informed her. Her tone was cold, slightly clipped, as she addressed her younger cousin. Gemma wondered if she saw her as a traitor to the Weasley family. They were such a close, loyal family that they probably all saw her that way.

Gemma smiled and thanked her cousin before closing her trunk. She ran down the stairs, passed Flint who tried to catch her attention, and slipped out the door. Her arms wound around Theodore's neck, knocking him backwards slightly.

"Good to see you too," he murmured, though he only patted her back once.

She pulled back, her face the picture of confusion. "What's wrong?" she asked, wondering if it had something to do with her.

"I came by to tell you I saw your parents at New Year's," he answered gruffly. "Your mum asked if I'd talked to you, but I mentioned that you and I haven't spoken since you were caught sneaking out."

"You told her?" Gemma shrieked angrily. "How could you do that to me? Don't you realize the kind of trouble I'll be in?"

"Aw, but you have your new daddy to protect you," he spat back facetiously. "Look, I didn't come here to argue with you."

"Just came by to make me feel guilty for not being with the family over Christmas break?" she guessed, trying to reel in her temper. "You can save it. Roxie and Freddie are doing a pretty bang up job all on their own."

Theodore sighed and leaned back against the wall. "You're my best friend, Gem. Your parents are like a second family to me. You know I want you to be happy, but I don't think Professor Zabini is the key to that."

She joined him and rested her head against his as they stood at equal heights. "He's my father, my real father, Dory. I just want to know what it would be like to be his daughter."

"And was it everything you hoped it would be and more?" he asked derisively. Her thin shoulders rose, unsure how else to answer. It hadn't been ideal, but they were still learning about one another. And she told her friend exactly that. "Sounds like a holly, jolly Christmas."

She poked him in the ribs in retaliation. In return, Theodore grinned to let her know she hadn't hurt him. They stood together in silence beside the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"So what did she say?" Theodore shot her a questioning look. "My mum, when you told her that I sneaked out of the castle. Was she mad?"

He shrugged, his expression one of relative calm and nonchalance.

"She shouldn't be for all the times she did it during her school days," Gemma continued ruefully.

"She was helping to protect our world," Theodore pointed out. "You wanted sugar quills. There's a bit of a difference."

Silence descended over the pair of first years once more. That was until Flint joined them, telling a raucous tale about a Quidditch game that resulted in his first snog. Theodore excused himself before Flint reached that part of his story, making up an excuse about Charms homework that needed completing for the next day's class.

Flint rolled his eyes as the other boy walked away. "I know he's your friend and all, Gems, but he's a right bore." He slung an arm around her shoulders, intent on leading her back inside. To his surprise, she ducked out from beneath the limb and took the same path Theodore had taken. She took the shortest route to the library, the one that passed the DADA classroom. As she made her way to her sanctuary, she heard voices emanating from the room.

"I think you should leave Gemma alone." It was Theodore who spoke. "She was happy with the Malfoys until you told her."

"She's my daughter," Blaise responding with little feeling. "She had a right to know who her real parents are. Sure, the Malfoys filled her head with stories of Pansy, but what of me? Shouldn't she have the option to be with her real father?"

Gemma moved closer to the door, finding it slightly ajar. It was open just enough that she could see Theodore, though not Blaise. She watched Theodore shrug his thin shoulders.

"You seem to think I know nothing," the younger wizard said. "I know the reasons her mother had for giving Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy custody of her. You didn't want her. You didn't love Pansy, and she knew you wouldn't love Gemma either."

"These are all brave words for a first year who seems to be dangerously close to failing his Defense class," Blaise mused.

Theodore's shoulders tensed noticeably. "I have O's on every exam."

"They'll be T's if you tell my daughter what you know," Blaise threatened.

Gemma watched as Theodore's ears turned red. She could feel the waves of anger flowing off of him, and wanted to rush to his aid. But her feet wouldn't allow her to move. What she heard next caused tears to flow freely down her cheeks.

"Do you even care about her?" Theodore wondered. "Or do you just want to get back at Mr. Malfoy for whatever grudge you seem to hold against him?"

There was silence as Gemma waited for her father's response. She wanted him to say that he loved her more than life itself. She wanted him to confess that he had spent years fighting her parents for custody. But he said neither of these.

"I didn't love her mother and I didn't want to deal with her child, of that you are correct," Blaise answered after his deliberation. "Gemma, on the one hand, is a sweet girl. She's not grating like Pansy was. Gemma's problem is that she's so much like Granger that she's hard to love."

Slowly, Gemma backed away from the classroom door before her sobs became loud enough to alert the two of her presence. She felt herself hit the opposite wall and slide down to the floor. It wasn't long after that, that Theodore was by her side with a comforting arm slung around her shoulders.

"How much did you hear?" he asked, rubbing her arm.

"Enough," she sniffled, her face pressed against his neck. "Over the break, he told me how much he loved her, but _she _decided that he shouldn't know about me. But he knew all along, didn't he?" She sobbed again, knowing the answer without needing a response from her friend.

"How about I take you to the hospital wing," he offered. "Maybe Madame Pomphrey can have your parents pick you up. Might be nice to see them."

Gemma nodded and allowed him to help her up. "They're going to hate me, I know it."

"No, they won't," he disagreed. "And if they do, you know you'll always have me. Dory and Gems, friends forever, right?"

The little girl chuckled, sniffling as she did so. "I thought you hated to be called Dory."

"Only when it's by someone who isn't you," he replied, hugging her closer.

The next morning, Gemma awoke in her own bed. She thought she had dreamed the lavender comforter and the pink teddy bear that was propped against the wall near her pillow. She looked to her left to see her mother asleep in the wing-backed chair beside her bed. A small smile curled the little witch's mouth at the sight of her. The door opened, drawing her attention away from Hermione. Draco entered with a mug of tea in his hand, which he graciously offered to her before sitting by her feet.

"Your sisters are staying with Mum Mum and Pop Pop for a couple days," he informed her. He spoke in a hushed voice so as not to disturb the witch sleeping by her bedside, though his tone conveyed that he wasn't as thrilled to see her as was to see him. "You'll see them before you go back to school. When she wakes up, I think it would be wise for you to apologize to your mother. You've no idea the pain you've caused her, Gemma."

She nodded mechanically, taking a small sip of her tea. Having said his piece, Draco rose. "Daddy?" Her small voice stopped him from leaving. He turned back to her, waiting for her to continue. "Was there ever a time you didn't want me?"

The facade he wore crumbled, and he took a seat closer to her. "When I first found out that your mum left you to me, I thought she was crazy. Then I found out that Hermione and I were sharing custody of you, and I almost told her to do it all on her own." Gemma let forth a small sob as she listened. Draco rose a hand to stroke her cheek lovingly. "But please understand that there was _never _a time I didn't want you. Mummy used to fight me just to hold you. I never wanted to let you ago. I never wanted to be away from you, and when I had to leave, I counted the minutes until I got to hold you again. You became our life, and it's because of you that Mummy and I are together today."

Hermione began to stir, opening her eyes to the sight of Draco comforting their oldest child. She let her blanket fall to the floor as she moved to Gemma's other side. She rested her hand on the little girl's back and moved it in slow, soothing circles.

"Notice how Daddy doesn't add that it's because of you that your sisters are with us," Hermione joked. Gemma moved out of her father's arms and into her mother's, nestling her head against Hermione's neck.

"I'm sorry, Mum," she cried. "I'm sorry I chose him over you and Daddy."

Hermione looked over to her husband, watching as his eyes darkened with rage at the mere mention of Blaise.

"You had every right to know who he was," Hermione said softly, making sure her tone conveyed that she didn't blame her. "I'm sorry you had to hear those awful things he said."

Gemma lifted her head, looking at her mother, then to her father. "No, I'm glad I heard him," she said. "At least I know what he really thinks of me now. And I know who my real family is." 


	25. Chapter 24

This is the last chapter before the Epilogue. I want to finish posting the story before the Thanksgiving holiday. I've been working on a couple of other stories, so once I have something done they'll be posted. Thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far! Enjoy!

**

* * *

Chapter 24**  
The Three Broomsticks was crowded with Hogwarts students when Blaise entered. He ignored the few students who tried to flag him down, most likely with questions about their latest exams or term papers. With his head up and his eyes staring forward, he moved to the back of the pub. There he spotted Draco Malfoy checking his pocket watch, a look of impatience on his pointed face.

"Malfoy," he said curtly, pulling out a chair opposite the blonde.

"Zabini," Draco replied with just as much irritation as the other man felt for him.

"I've heard a rumor," Blaise drawled, leaning back in his seat. Draco piqued one light eyebrow. "Something to the effect that you've had Gemma transferred out of my class. Funny thing is, I'm the only one teaching that subject. Who else will teach her Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

It was Draco's turn to lean back and smile snidely. "Private tutorial," he responded. "She'll be able to avoid your class, and next year when there's a new teacher, she'll pick back up with the subject."

The Italian nodded satisfactorily. The Malfoys would spare no expense to keep him away from their little girl. He had received word that they had pulled her out of school briefly, though he was unsure as to their reasons. He was sure he didn't want to know their reasons.

"So, is that all you wanted to discuss, or am I free to go, Malfoy?" Blaise asked, feeling more impatient as the minutes ticked by. "Are you and Granger, perhaps, expanding the family? You'll have more brats than the Weasleys soon."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "I want you to stay away from Gemma. She wants nothing to do with you, and neither do we." Refusing to let Blaise get in another word, Draco pushed back his chair and stood to depart.

"She really said that?" Blaise asked, turning around in his chair. "Gemma really said she wants nothing to do with me?"

Draco nodded, feeling not the least bit guilty for imparting this tidbit on him.

"Fine," Blaise replied. "If that's what she wants."

He prayed this conversation would put an end to the part Blaise played in their lives. He turned to leave once more. There was a cool breeze blowing on the winter day, and Draco sucked in a deep breath before Apparating to the Burrow.

"Daddy!" He heard as he appeared in the front yard. Demi ran to him, leaping into her father's arms. "I was watching from the window, waiting for you."

Draco smiled and kissed her cheek. "I've missed you," he told her happily. "Did you get to see your sister yet? Mummy and Gemmy are here, right?"

"They just got here," she confirmed as Draco began to walk to the front door. "Are we going home soon? I miss my bed. Is Gemmy staying? I don't want her to go back to school. I like it better when she's home with you and me and Mummy and Emmy. Can't Mummy teach her at home like she used to?"

"She'll go back in a few days," he replied, watching a pout form on her little face. "She's learning things that Mummy can't teach her at home."

When they entered the house, he was greeted by his wife and girls. Mrs. Weasley soon emerged from her post in the kitchen to hug him, announcing that lunch would soon be ready. George crossed through the living room and smiled as Draco passed Demi off to him.

"I make no promises to return this one," he warned, carrying her away.

"Em, follow Gigi," Draco instructed, bending down so he was eye to eye with his middle daughter who reminded him so much of Hermione. "Make sure when we leave I have both you and your little sister."

Emmy rolled her eyes and followed George. When the little girls were out of earshot, Hermione turned to him expectantly.

"Daddy, Uncle Harry said he can teach me Defense Against the Dark Arts," Gemma said, excitement lighting up her voice for the first time in a long time. "And look what Gigi gave me. It's a never ending notebook so I never run out of pages."

"That's great, love," he replied. "Is there somewhere we can go to talk in private?" Hermione nodded and led them upstairs to Ginny's old room. After casting a silencing and locking charm on the room, Hermione turned back to Draco.

Gemma sat on the bed, waiting for her father to speak. Her heart pounded in her chest, fearing the worst. Despite what Blaise had told Theodore, she still feared that he would fight her parents for custody. "What happened, Daddy?" she asked meekly.

Draco sighed and sat down beside her. "Before I tell you I need to know that this is what you really want," he said seriously. "Otherwise, I'll have to go crawling back to Blaise, tail between my legs, and admit that I made a mistake. And you know Malfoys don't make mistakes. It's in the family constitution."

She looked up at him with resilient eyes. "I only want to be with people who want me," she said, her voice finding more confidence. "Not every kid gets to choose their parents, but I do. And I want to stay with you."

Draco nodded, feeling as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. As he spoke, he could feel Gemma begin to shift uncomfortably beside him. "What's wrong?" he asked as he finished telling them about the conversation he had had with Zabini.

The little girl shrugged, her eyes fixed on a poster of Gwenog Jones. "I don't know," she replied, furrowing her brow.

"Are you upset?" Hermione asked, resting an arm around her shoulders.

Gemma shook her head. "No, I thought I would be, but I'm not," she told them. She turned to look at her mother with a smile on her face. "I'm actually really happy that he promised to stay away."

"And you're okay with not being in Defense class with everyone else?" Draco prodded.

She shrugged. "It won't be so bad learning from Uncle Harry this year," she responded with a maturity Draco hadn't expected from a 12 year old. "Besides, if what Mum says about the post being cursed is true, he won't be back next year. I'll still see my friends, it just won't be during that class period anymore."

Draco breathed a sigh of relief at how well she handled the situation. His eyes caught Hermione, who looked rather pensive. "Gem, why don't you go play with your sisters and Gigi?" She rose from the bed and hugged her parents before leaving. When the door closed behind her, he turned to his wife. "What's bothering you?"

Hermione straightened out her expression. "I don't trust him," she stated, bitterness seeping into her tone. "He's pulled this before, and I don't believe that he'll stay away for good this time. I'm not sure I can go through this struggle with him again."

Draco moved closer, pulling his upset wife into his side. "We can't live everyday with the fear that Blaise will try to take her away again. We have to move on from this and believe that he'll do what's right for Gemma. Just don't make yourself crazy worrying over Gemma. You could miss out on a lot of good things that way."

She leaned her head against his shoulder and let forth a shaky breath. "I know I shouldn't worry, but I do. I'm a mother; it's my job to worry about them."

He replied with a chuckle and kissed the top of her head. "If they're anything like you, we won't have to worry," he said softly.

"And if they're anything like you, I'll have gray hair before I'm forty," she retorted, picking her head up to smile at him. "You'll probably go bald," she added, sadly fingering his blonde locks.

He turned an affronted stare on her, but a smile still broke through. "Let's go home," he said.


	26. Epilogue

Sorry it took me a little longer than promised to post. I just got internet access back last night. Hope you enjoy the end of the story and thanks to everyone who has stuck with me this far!

**

* * *

Epilogue**  
Draco glared at the dark haired boy sprawled out on his living room sofa. Yet another one of Gemma's friends who felt comfortable enough to sleep in his house. All around him, the women were discussing the last minute wedding details - flowers should go here, don't put this person next to that one, chicken is too bourgeois for a wedding. He was sure that if the debate between rose or mauve colored napkins continued again, his ears would begin to bleed.

"Daddy, I can't concentrate on my Charms essay, and it's due in two months. Couldn't Gem get married after I graduate? It's only another year," Emmy complained. She stood before him with an armful of books, scrolls of parchment, and her writing utensils.

He smiled at his middle child. She reminded him of Hermione at that age - short tempered, huffy, laden down with school materials and not enough time in which to complete all the things she wanted to do. Her honey brown curls had grown to just around her waist and she stared at him with soulfully brown eyes. She was the child who demanded the least, merely asking for book money and a quiet place to do her work.

"If it were up to me, none of you would get married," he told her kindly. He draped an arm around her shoulders and led her upstairs away from the noise. "Why don't you work in here," he suggested, leading her to the master bedroom.

"Really?" she asked with wide eyes. Draco nodded. "And no one will bother me? Demi won't come running in asking to borrow my shoes or wanting to know if I still have my fifth year Transfiguration homework?"

"I'll put a silencing charm on the room so it's quiet, and you can lock the door yourself," he told her. "Just be careful with your ink. Try not to spill it anywhere. You know your mother."

She nodded knowingly. Hermione would raise cane if ink hit her bedspread or the carpet. She settled herself at Hermione's vanity table and spread out her work. Draco silently cast his spell and left.

"Daddy, I can't find my right shoe," Demi declared as if this were a state of emergency. Draco had just shut the door behind him, hoping his youngest hadn't disturbed Emmy. "And Mum says she wants my coursework done before I go back to school. Plus, I need new school robes. And do I really have to wear that awful dress Gemmy picked out for me?"

"It's your sister's wedding," he said, trying to remain patient. "When you get married, you can make her wear something hideous. Perhaps something in a bright orange." A devious smile alighted Demi's face as she pictured her oldest sister in bright orange robes with lemon yellow ruffles. She wound a light brown curl around her index finger, her gray eyes sparkling with delight.

Narcissa had always warned him that he would have a child just like him some day, and Draco idly wondered if Demi was the product. She was sweet and loving, but her Slytherin side came out to play often. Of her sisters, she was most concerned with how she looked and what type of impression she made on others. She had proudly boasted when the Sorting Hat placed her in her father's House, claiming it was because Draco liked her the best. Emmy had sulked, having been placed in neither parent's House. It wasn't until Hermione pointed out that she herself had almost been a Ravenclaw that her mood ever so slightly improved.

"The day after the wedding, we'll make a trip to Diagon Alley," he promised her. "You can buy your robes. Emmy can buy whatever books she has left to buy. Mummy will get mad at Daddy for staring at Quidditch gear for too long. And I'll carry _all _the bags. Like I always do."

"But it's not the same. Gemmy won't be there," she replied, plumping up her bottom lip into a pout.

"No," Draco said with a wistful sigh. "She's too good for us now. Would rather get married and go on holiday than take a trip to Diagon Alley with her family."

Demi produced a typical teenage eye roll. "Maybe if you were less embarrassing in public, she would have stayed with us."

"I'm going to see if I can help your mother. Get your coursework done," he said, passing by her. His foot reached the first step before he turned back. "And I am not embarrassing." He proceeding down the stairs before she could make a reply. Passing the living room, he noticed Flint still asleep on the couch. He grumbled something under his breath about the boy being a good for nothing lout before entering the kitchen.

"Oh, Daddy, please tell me you've picked up your dress robes," Gemma pleaded without so much as a hello. "The wedding is in two days and you can't look like a mess."

"I won't," he said defensively. "Hermione, will you please calm your daughter down and explain that you picked them up last week?"

Hermione nodded her head to back him up. "Of course, he still hasn't tried them on," she added, smirking at him before looking back to her seating chart.

"_Et tu_?" he whispered in her ear before kissing her cheek. He crossed to the sink and filled a glass with water. Taking a sip, he turned back to face the table of women who paid him little attention. "So, my dear Gemma, my wonderful first born, just how long does Flint intend to sleep in my living room?"

Gemma looked up briefly, shrugged, and went back to her work. "I had kind of forgotten that he was there, to be honest with you." She glanced down to the list in her lap and looked back to her father, batting her eyelashes and smiling sweetly. "Daddy, there is something I need you to do if you don't mind? Could you pick up the Notts since your wards won't allow for direct Apparition?" Draco scowled. Gemma had been begging for months to have the wards changed to allow her future in-laws. It wasn't that he didn't like the Notts. He and Theo had been friends for years, both in school and after. Theodore and Gemma had grown up together, and he had been her support system thought their Hogwarts days. But now, now he was the boy trying to take his daughter away from him. There had been enough of that over the years, and Draco wasn't ready to go through it again.

"Fine," he grunted. "But get Flint off my couch."

Gemma fiddled with her ring nervously as he walked by. He heared her asked "What's wrong with Dad?" as he exited the kitchen, but didn't stick around long enough to hear the response. He stepped out into the summer air, feeling the soft night breeze hit his face. Slowly, he walked to the end of the path and waited.

Three figures rounded the corner, and Draco stepped past the front gate. Theo clapped a hand on his back, receiving a curt nod from Draco. "I'm not much happier about this than you," Theo confided as his wife and son walked ahead of them.

"You only have to do this once. I have _three _girls," Draco grumbled his reply.

"True, but you won't have to live with Daphne alone now," Theo replied.

The quartet entered the house. "Why's Flint on your couch?" Theodore asked, waking up his best man.

Gemma jogged out of the kitchen and leapt into Theodore's arms. "Two more days," she whispered before trying to kiss him. It was the sound of Draco clearing his throat behind them that caused Theodore to ignore her affections.

"Are you close to done with the preparations?" he asked Hermione. She nodded, glaring angrily at him. "Good, I'm going to bed."

The gardens of Malfoy Manor were decorated perfectly for a summer wedding. Gemma paced nervously as she waited for the ceremony to start. Her mother and sisters waited by her side for her father to announce that it was time.

"Where is he?" she asked for the sixth time. A light sheen of perspiration dotted her forehead as panic set in.

"He'll be here," Hermione assured her. She turned to her youngest, "Dem, go outside and check to see if your father is here yet."

Demi rolled her eyes, but rose from her chair and opened the door to leave. She gave a startled gasp when she saw her father with his fist poised to knock on the door. "Hi, Dad, we were just talking about you," she said cheekily.

Draco stepped around her, ignoring the comments she made about the beautiful day and his being late. His eyes lingered on Gemma in her wedding robes, flowing white material that gave her a positively ethereal look. She wore a wreath of small flowers and baby's breath woven into her dark, curly locks. Draco moved closer to her and Hermione, and kissed his wife's cheek before whispering something into her ear.

"Dem, Emmy, let's wait outside so Daddy and Gemmy can talk," she said, ushering the younger girls out.

Draco sat beside Gemma and exhaled a shaky breath. Before he could speak, Gemma glared angrily at him and spoke.

"Where have you been?" she demanded, color rushing to her cheeks to turn it, in Draco's opinion, a lovely shade of pink. "You're supposed to walk me down in the aisle in a few minutes, and this is first I see of you. Have you and Theo been drinking?"

Draco took offense to her accusation, but knew that it would not do to argue with her. "No, I haven't been drinking," he replied sourly. He rubbed his hands over his face and sighed. "This is harder than I expected it to be. It feels like I'm losing you again, and after everything that happened in the past with Blaise,-"

"This isn't like that," Gemma replied as gently as she could, resting a hand on Draco's forearm. "That whole mess with Blaise, if he had gotten his way, then yes, you could have lost me. This isn't the same. I'm getting married, not getting new parents."

"I know," he mumbled, taking her hand in his own. "I'm just not sure I'm ready to give you away."

"Well, I could always ask Blaise to do it," she joked, but then realized it might have been too sensitive a subject. "Mum and I thought it would be a nice gesture to invite him. You aren't mad, I hope."

Draco shook his head. "I already saw him. Didn't look like he had any adoption papers in hand, so I think it'll be okay."

Gemma smiled. "So, do you think you're ready to walk me down the aisle now?" she asked hopefully. He stood and extended his hand to her. He pulled her into a tight hug, never wanting to let her go. "Thank you for being my dad," she whispered in his ear.

Draco pulled back and offered her his arm. "Thank you for being my daughter," he replied sincerely. They walked with arms linked to the entrance of the garden. Blaise was seated in the very last row beside a blonde Draco didn't recognize. Her stomach swelled with pregnancy, and Draco briefly wondered if he planned to stick around for this child.

"Happy thoughts, Daddy," she whispered, catching where his line of sight went. He flashed an innocent smile and continued down the aisle. They had reached the altar too quickly for Draco's liking, and he had no choice but to hand Gemma over to Theodore Nott, Jr.

"Who gives this woman in the sacred bond of marriage?" the minister inquired.

"Her mother and I do," Draco replied stoically before taking his seat beside Hermione.

The ceremony passed by in a blur. The vows, the exchange of rings, the bonding ceremony all went too quickly for Draco. He stood to applaud as Gemma and Theodore walked up the aisle with bright, happy smiles on their faces. Blaise was the first to greet the newlyweds.

"Congratulations to the both of you," he said, bowing his head reverently.

"Thanks," Theodore replied, glaring at his former teacher as he tightened his arm around his bride's waist.

"It's a shame your mother couldn't be here to see you. She would have been so proud of you," Blaise continued, ignoring the tension between himself and the couple.

Gemma nodded solemnly. "It was good of you to come, Blaise," she said politely. "I do hope we'll see more of each other in the future."

"I'd like that," he told her, a soft smile gracing his face. He glanced behind him as guests lined up to greet the newlyweds. He placed a swift kiss on her cheek. "See you soon."

Draco and Hermione were the first to reach them after Blaise left. "What was that about?" Draco murmured in her ear as he hugged her, his voice sounding slightly alarmed.

Gemma smiled up at him. "Nothing, Daddy," she assured him. "All is well."


End file.
